Wild Knight
by DarkJackel
Summary: Sent to another world while under the Neko-Ken and trained as a white knight by the Order of the White Rose Sir Ranma Saotome embarks on a quest which will make him an epic hero.
1. White Knight Blooms

Wild Knight

Chapter 01: White Rose Blooms

By DarkJackel

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Disclaimer: Rifts, its contents and constituent materials along with any other parts of the Palladium Megaverse are the property of Palladium Books. While my OC's were created by me they were created with the Occupational and Racial Character Classes from Palladium and as such I give them their due. Similarly I own nothing related to Ranma ½ either. I have no money but if they think this is good enough to make a book of it I would be very thankful for the opportunity.

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Key:

"speech"

"_written word"_

'thought'

'_telepathy'_

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"Damned worthless boy" thought Genma Saotome for the twentieth time as he chased after his son. 'Oh why was he cursed with such a weak child that he couldn't have just learned the Neko-Ken like a real man and have been done with it?' he thought. Thankfully, he had realized early on that all the noise that the cats would make. Therefore, he relocated the pit outside of town, to avoid drawing the attention of the public, who, as Genma had learned from his time under the Master (shudder), did not always appreciate the rigorous training that a true martial artist must endure and would doubtlessly try to interfere. So at least they were running through a forest and not a populated city. Genma lost sight of his son as he went into a cave on the hill they had run up. He found his son in the cave crouched on all fours hissing with his back arched. 'Pathetic boy' thought Genma as he approached his insane son.

Then it happened.

This cave used to serve as an ancient dimensional transportation device and the planets had just come into alignment. This caused a massive surge of power that activated the transporter pad.

Genma watched in shock as his only son and meal ticket vanished from this Earth in a column of blue-white light. As the shock cleared form what passes for Genma's brain he summed up this bizarre event in two words.

"Oh shit."

Then he remembered his wife, Nodoka. He especially remembered her katana. He also remembered that it was a very sharp katana. Oh and that little seppuku pledge he had made to placate her when he stole away her only child who she loved very much and would wreck horrific violence upon his body if she found out that something like this had happened to her son. Suddenly Genma was gripped with a powerful desire to learn more about lands far away from his wife and her katana, like China or India, maybe even Mexico.

And so with no further hesitation Genma began his flight from Japan.

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Rifts Earth, 93 Post-Apocalyptic (P.A.)

With a flash of light a frightened Neko-Ranma landed upon the grass of a forest. After a quick inspection the crazed and hungry boy ran off in search of food.

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Twelve Years Later, 105 P.A.

Within their hidden lair the bandits of the Red Wolves the sounds of revelry and celebration sounded throughout the ancient building. The bandit gang had just scored several successful raids against trade caravans out of Lazlo and stolen a fortune. The building, a warehouse from the Pre-Rifts era that had survived mostly intact, had been found and converted into a hideout by the bandits six years back and had allowed them to remain hidden within the borders of Free Quebec while still being able to raid areas near Lazlo. Because of the hostility Free Quebec had with countries that use magic or tolerate D-Bees they would be disinclined to seriously act against bandits who only targeted their enemies without very convincing evidence. Makeshift lights hung from the ceiling, providing illumination for the bandit's secret domain. On the floor below in the dilapidated building, situated around a dozen tables of different make and model, some stolen and others makeshift, the members of the gang sat drinking, feasting and smoking while barmaids moved about to serve their masters.

Seated upon a high-backed wooden chair, surveying the human and D-Bee's before him, was the leader of this bandit gang, Luis Fantane smirked as he took in the fruits of his life's work. It had been a stroke of luck that he had uncovered the ruins of a Pre-Rifts town in the Eastern Wilderness that would provide a secure hideaway for a gang while still close enough to Old Bones to resupply yet hidden from the Coalition. While creating his own bandit kingdom had been challenging he had been able to hire or kidnap enough support personnel to serve his men and secure supplies for his lair. 'Life is good,' he thought to himself as he enjoyed the feel of the two drugged-out women he had made his sex-slaves.

The celebration was suddenly brought to an end as the building's lights died, plunging the room into a darkness broken only by the moonlight filtering through broken windows. As his minions were thrown into confusion Luis, no longer interested in the oblivious women writhing in his lap, sent a mental command to his multi-optic left eye, shifting to passive nightvision. Seeing no eminent threat Luis turned his head towards a pair of his subordinates and said, "You two go check the generator. The rest of you secure the slaves."

Now with direction and orders to follow the bandits hurried to secure their slaves as the boss ordered, leaving Luis with a half-dozen of his most loyal men as he thought about what could have happened. Ideally this was nothing more than a repairable power failure, but what if it wasn't? As two of his men finished Luis don his armor the door to the warehouse flew open.

Immediately all the bandits turned their guns on the newcomer. The man was clad in red and black knightly armor with spikes on the shoulder-plates, a spiked and armored collar. Another crest of spikes ran along the top of the faceless helmet, flanked by a set of blade-like angelic wings on the sides. If is appearance did not state his intentions the rifle in his hands did so clearly.

Looking at the stranger Luis felt slightly insulted. 'How dare some son of a bitch think they can bring ME in with ONE FUCKING GUY,' he thought as a contemptuous sneer crossed his face.

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Standing in front of the bandit's lair, having tracked the bandits from their last raid back to this location, Sir Ranma Saotome took a moment to reflect on the strange path his life had taken him. When he had come too he had found himself in a strange and dangerous land. Alone and with nothing but the clothes on his back Ranma had made his way through the wilderness until he found a city but even then it was little help since he did not speak the language. Eventually he fell in with a gang of other abandoned youths trying to eke out a living in an unforgiving world. The best fighter in the group he had been recruited into a band of highwaymen and had assisted them in their raids. He probably would have become a full member and eventually their leader had fate not once more intervened to change his life. One day they were tracked down and attacked by a white knight. At the time Ranma had not known why the elven white knight had spared him much less offered him training, but Ranma had been impressed by the power and skill of the other man and had accepted the offer and never regretted his choice.

'And here I am, tracking down bandits and highwaymen,' the young knight thought ruefully. 'The circle is now complete.'

Feeling that he had given the bandits enough time to panic after having snuck in and blown their generator Sir Ranma kicked in the door and strode confidently into the room. Because his armor was not environmentally sealed Sir Ranma's nose was immediately assaulted by the smells of tobacco, marijuana and other foul odors. Before him stood his prey along with a half-dozen of his goons, all training their weapons on him. A condescending smirk traced along Sir Ranma's face as he noticed no rail guns in the mix and he assumed a posture of relaxed confidence which would either intimidate or piss off these thugs before him.

Seeing the cocky trash that had interrupted his celebration Luis sneered and said, "And just who the hell do you think you are?"

Ignoring his target's bluster Sir Saotome decided to yank his chain one last time. "Luis Fantane," Ranma said, his helmet distorting his voice, giving it a vibrato effect, "your time is up. Surrender and you won't be hurt."

That tore it; Luis had had enough of this arrogant punk. "KILL THE SHIT!" he shouted as he fired his own NE-10 plasma cartridge pistol at the intruder. His plasma bolt was joined by laser fire, ion bolts, and other plasma weapons as the six minions added their own fire to put down the intruder. To their surprise the man made no move to dodge or scramble out of the way as enough fire to destroy a SAMAS barreled straight at him.

On the other side Sir Ranma stood there as a wall of death closed in on him. Even two years after becoming a full-fledged white knight he had to remind himself that he didn't need to dodge conventional energy weapons anymore. With even the weakest modern weapon able to vaporize a human with power to spare and do massive damage to anything not molecularly bonded, magical or supernatural it was reasonable to want to avoid such things. However because of his training Sir Ranma was constantly surrounded by a protective aura against energy damage that rendered conventional energy weapons useless and reduced the effectiveness of magical energy against him. Instead of dodging Sir Ranma used the time to quietly work his magic, increasing his speed and creating a protective magical barrier over his armor. Allowing the energy to wash harmlessly over him Sir Ranma savored the looks of shock and fear from the thugs as they saw he was totally unharmed by their guns. Now that they seemed to know they could not hurt him Sir Ranma took the opportunity to show that he could hurt them and fired off a pair of lightning bolts from his TW Storm Rifle. Faced with an apparently invincible foe that could harm them at will the bandits began to panic and Ranma took advantage of this to quickly finish his mission, charging forward to knock out and capture their leader.

As Sir Ranma charged forward at superhuman speeds Luis, guided by the combat computer built into his brain, dodged the butt of his rifle and retaliated with the concealed vibro-blade in his cybernetic arm. Seeing the blade strike against the knight's barrier and causing him to disengage. Realizing what this meant Luis commanded, "Use yer blades! Kill'em."

Resigned to having to do things the hard way Sir Ranma dropped his rifle, drew and activated his TW Conduit Sword. Instantly the crystalline-energy blade formed from a magic energy bolt formed into a long sword blade. Seeing the formerly panicked bandits regaining some composure as they drew their own vibro-weapons Sir Ranma had no doubt that he would win. However his mission was to capture Luis Fantane and he would prefer to avoid a blood bath if possible. Alerted by his sixth sense to the attack from behind the young Saotome ducked the strike and opened the coward up with his blade before jumping back from a pair of claw swipes. Releasing the enchanted weight and chain wrapped around his left forearm Sir Saotome wrapped the chain around one of the attacker's vambraces. Shouting, "Get over here," as he pulled the bandit towards him he impaled the man on his blade as the remaining three bandits surrounded him.

Before they could do anything Sir Ranma gathered telekinetic energy around his legs and leapt out of the encirclement towards Luis. Luis brought up his arm and tried to block the incoming strike by the white knight. Sir Ranma quickly cleaved off his cybernetic arm just shy of the elbow and was about to punch him out when an explosion knocked the white knight off his balance. Turning to the attacker who was cocking his TX-5 pump pistol Sir Ranma shot him with a bolt of magical energy from his hand, dropping the man. Hearing his target trying to run the white knight quickly cast a spell, launching a net of magic energy which trapped the bandit leader. As he did that Sir Ranma brought up his, again, chain-wrapped arm to block a strike from a vibro-claymore before ducking a saber slash from the last remaining bandits and bringing his sword around to strike them both down.

Cognizant that someone had probably heard his fight and that reinforcement could be coming, Sir Saotome walked over to his bound and cursing captive and grabbed hold of his head. Driving his fist into the bandit leader's head Sir Ranma knocked the man unconscious, bound him and hefted Luis on his shoulder. Picking up his rifle on the way out Sir Ranma was about to make his escape when he heard a cry. Dropping the unconscious body of the bandit leader he brought his rifle up as a person came into view. The person, a woman clad in rags, running at him was unarmored and apparently unarmed, but one can never be sure. In a panicked voice she said, "Please don't leave me here, they'll kill us."

"Us?" the white knight asked. The information he had did not mention captives, though that could have been an oversight. However he would correct that problem now.

Still agitated but glad that the stranger was listening the woman began speaking, "Yeah me and a few other women they have been keeping as slaves, making us work for them, making us… us…." She then descended into uncontrolled weeping from the horrors she had endured.

Even though he was not empathic Sir Ranma had no trouble figuring out what the rest of the sentence was and his blood began to boil. Using his psychic powers he began transmitting calming feelings into the woman's brain. "It's alright, you don't have to finish," he said, trying to calm the woman down and get more information. "Where are the others?"

Recovering a semblance of composure the young woman continued, "Second floor, Room 205. What about me?"

Looking around the room Sir Ranma noticed an old locker. Helping the girl up and picking up his captive he said, "Hide in that old locker." Passing her a wooden mallet he added, "If he wakes up use this to put him back to sleep."

The woman took the mallet, seemingly pleased by the prospect of being able to beat on her tormentor a little and said, "Please be safe."

Although the helmet hid his facial expressions Sir Ranma still conveyed confidence by saying as he said, "Don't worry, they can't touch me."

As he cast an invisibility spell and walked into the gloom of the building Sir Ranma began planning how he would attack the remaining bandits. He had been hired by a merchant who had lost many employees, including his son, in one of the raids and had contacted the Order's front company, Bethesda Mercenary Enterprises, to bring the bandit's leader to justice. However with what he had just learned Ranma didn't care, the Red Wolves gang died **today**.

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When the lights had gone out and the Boss had issued them out a couple of bandits had gone to the security station to see if they had an intruder. Guided by their flashlights in the darkened building the pair quietly made their way through the ancient building, each aware of the possibility that they could be attacked from the shadows. When they arrived they were shocked to see the guy on duty had been knocked up and bound and the security station destroyed. One of the pair, a kark who called himself JC said, "Well that's not right."

"No shit man," his human companion replied. "Do ya know how ta fix this?"

"Eh probably," JC, one of the few bandits with some knowledge of electronics, said as he got down to work on the damaged wiring. "Give me a couple minutes."

As JC worked to try and bring the monitors back up his compatriot began to pace nervously. He was called Downer by the others and had served with the Red Wolves for the last few years and so far it had been going smoothly. At first he had balked at the amount of travel the gang did when on their raids when they could just hit places in Free Quebec but the idea behind it had merit. So far no one had ever tracked them to their hideout so the attack had taken them by surprise. The question was who would have the stones for such an act? Hopefully it was just some punk looking to earn his chops but what if it wasn't? With all of their raids bounty hunters was a possibility but what if it was something else. Last time he was in Old Bones he had heard of Free Quebec's secession from the Coalition States. While Downer would never claim to be knowledgeable on politics but if nations were anything like gangs then that wouldn't slide. If so then any place that would make a good bandit hideout would also make a great place to hide a bunch of soldiers before attacking. At that thought Downer's pacing doubled in speed as he began imagining the ruins swarming with bloodthirsty commandos. His worrying was only put to an end when JC crawled out from under the consol and said, "Well that should do it. Just let me get the backup genny running and we should be sitt'n pretty."

"I got it," Downer said, turning to where the backup generator for the security system was hidden. It had been the boss' idea to set it up and was just another reason why he was the boss. With a heave the human bandit pushed aside the cabinet where it was located and gave the motor a crank. With a growl the gas-powered generator came to life and with it the screens to the surveillance system. As he checked the screens JC idly ran his hand along one of the two facial tentacles which, Downer thought, looked like a ridiculously oversized Fu-Manchu mustache. "I can't find the Boss and his guard is dead but I'm not seeing anything else out of place."

Before Downer could react the door to their room burst open to reveal nothing and before either could process what this could mean Downer went down as three lightning bolts shot out from mid air and blasted through his makeshift armor, reducing his heart to atoms. Shocked by the sudden attack by an invisible enemy JC was unable to respond when he felt a rifle butt slam forcefully into his skull, sending him down.

Still invisible Sir Ranma checked the guy he had knocked out earlier to make sure he wouldn't be waking up soon as he switched clips in his TW Storm Rifle. Slapping in the magic energy battery he used the active screens to confirm the location of his remaining prey. It seemed they were had built a cage in the room he had been told the slaves would be in and that most of them had congregated there.

"You want to protect your ill-gotten booty so bad," the white knight whispered to himself, "then allow me to oblige." Quietly Sir Ranma made his way out of the room and began stalking towards the stairs, using his psychic power to grant himself nightvision. Even if he couldn't be seen by the naked eye his invisibility did not cover sounds but with only slightly over a dozen enemies left they didn't stand a chance.

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In the generator room one of the few bandits with any technical knowledge was working by lamplight and flashlight to bring power back to the facility. Along with him there were two other bandits with rifles trained on the door just in case something happened. Upon entering the room Drake, who had worked in a mechanics shop before he got fired and took a job with the gang, examined the generator, which had been made from the nuclear power plant from an old robot. Having worked on robots and power armor back in the day Drake was glad to see that there was not a breach in the containment systems. As bad as today had gotten getting a lethal dose of radiation would have royally sucked. That said the signs of tampering were obvious to him, especially since he had been the one to build the set up and made him very glad for the two guards watching the door with particle beam rifles. Turning to his erstwhile bodyguards Drake said, "Almost done guys."

The two bandits turned at this and gave a sigh of relief. With luck this would soon be over and they could get back to their relaxation. With that the door flew off the hinges as an armored warrior kicked the door down and blew the head off of one of the guards with a rifle shooting lightning. The other bandit launched bolts from his particle beam rifle to no effect. 'Magic,' Drake thought in fright. He had grown up hearing the propaganda regarding magic and its users and now, facing an apparently invincible magic-user, he could understand why they should be feared. As the other bandit was dropped Drake decided to forgo pride and raised his hands saying, "I surrender. Please don't kill me"

Hearing the final bandit's plea Sir Ranma decided to show mercy and knocked him out with the butt of his gun. Now that they wouldn't have any light it should put the raiders at a disadvantage.

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Approaching the stairs to the second level Sir Ranma surveyed the way up. There were a couple of bandits at the top of the stairs though their sloppy manner showed a lack of any real training in guarding positions. 'However," the knight thought, 'I bet there is a trap waiting.'

Deciding to try out his theory and clear the way Sir Ranma shouldered the rifle so he could use his chain and TW Ice Shard pistol. Quickly he fired a pair of bursts of magical ice shards into one bandit's chest while he whipped the chain around the leg of the other and yanked hard. The bandit screamed as he suddenly flew down the stairs until an axe kick from an armored boot ended his screaming. As he took down the bandits Sir Ranma noticed the pair of mini-missiles that came streaking down the hall to slam into the far wall.

'Missiles, great,' Sir Ranma thought. Unlike conventional energy weapons, which couldn't harm him even if he was naked (though getting shot in the eyes was blinding), armor piercing or fragmentation missiles would have their normal effect on him. Even though he was invisible if they had thermo-optics he could be in big trouble. 'Screw it,' Sir Ranma thought, 'Who wants to live forever?'

With that he took the stairs in a single telekinetic leap, turning in mid-air to land on the wall. Using the energy of his leap he launched at the opposite wall and thus began a charge leaping from wall-to-wall at his enemies. Unable to see their attacker but hearing his approach the pair fired a second pair of mini-missiles from their WI-23 missile launchers. Sixth sense screaming Sir Ranma twisted around the projectiles mid-leap and continued his advance. Before they could fire again Sir Ranma fell upon them like divine retribution. Activating his TW Conduit Sword again Sir Ranma plunged the blade into one bandit's chest while the other he grabbed the face of and fired a point blank bolt of magic energy from his hand.

Alone with the two corpses the white knight extended his senses to feel for presences on the other side of the room. Sir Ranma felt almost a dozen presences in front of the door. 'Probably the last of the bandits preparing a welcoming party,' the knight deduced. Looking down an idea came to the young warrior-mystic and he removed one of the missile launchers box clips and checked the missiles inside. Looking inside he smiled as he said, "Plasma, perfect," and reloaded the launcher.

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Inside room 205, where centuries ago office workers held meetings to discuss their plans, the last of the Red Wolves prepared to make a stand against their attackers. However they were a force best suited to being on the offense and the longer the period before the generator was brought back on line the more edgy the remaining Red Wolves became. Some of the bandits wanted to take the slaves hostage and flee with them as living shields, hoping that whoever was attacking them would hesitate at the risk of vaporizing innocents. However the being in charge, a greot hunter who went by the nickname Blood Messiah, was having none of that and the bloody smear on the wall that had once been the unofficial head of the dissenters silenced all opposition.

Standing to the rear of the human trash Blood Messiah was eager to crush the interloper and show once and for all that he was the one who should be in charge. And after this, once he was in charge, there would be changes. First they would stop pussy footing around with these long-distance raids and start hitting closer to home. After all why go all the way to Lazlo when they were in Free Quebec's back yard? Blood Messiah's reptilian lips pulled back in a predatory sneer as he imagined how he would lead.

Around the powerful D-Bee the other bandits were far less confident that they would live to debate this issue… again. Hearing the screams of their companions outside did little to ease their concerns, but the pulp where Blood Messiah had pulled apart the most vocal dissenter bare handed gave a clear incentive to stand and fight. Instead the waited and trained their weapons on the front door, waiting for the intruder to break in.

Without warning a large section of wall disappeared in an expanding plasma cloud. Considering the narrowness of the hallway and the blast radius the bandits were dumb-struck both that someone would attempt this but also that an apparently unharmed warrior charged through the cloud of plasma to attack them. Using their stupefaction to his advantage Sir Ranma impaled one bandit through the gut while placing his other hand on another bandit's leg before blowing it off with a magic bolt. As the pair went down the white knight leapt to the other side of the group and dropped a third with a heel kick.

Recovering from the shock from the speed and efficiency of the attack the other bandits began massing fire on the knight. Deciding to give his enemies some false hope Sir Ranma used the time to cast another spell. Completing this Sir Ranma's hands began to glow and he began to parry the energy bolts and more than parry, in a flurry of motion the hail of energy bolts reversed course and brought down another two bandits. As the fire died down Sir Ranma taunted saying, "Come on guys, this is just getting dull."

Furious with the insignificant insect that refused to die Blood Messiah lashed out with fists capable of effortlessly shredding cars only to hit nothing. Sir Ranma smirked as he danced around the massive D-Bee's fists. Early on in his career the young white knight had found a certain pleasure in showing tough thugs that beating up helpless people did not make them skilled warriors. As he dodged around the greot hunter's strikes Sir Ranma lashed out with his conduit sword, delivering deep slashes to the mighty D-Bee. Having destroyed the D-Bee's armor and landed deep strikes into his supernaturally tough flesh Sir Ranma decided to have a little fun with him, "Hey suitcase, this it or you are you finally done with the warm-up?"

"DIE WORM!" Blood Messiah shouted as he drove his fists in a mighty hammer strike shattering the worn concrete floor. As he removed his hands Blood Messiah ripped out a pipe and, swinging it like a baseball bat, nearly tagged his more agile opponent. Ready to end the fight Sir Ranma decided to bring this farce to an end and empathically transmitted rage into the brain of his already angry enemy, sending Blood Messiah over the edge.

With an inarticulate cry of fury Blood Messiah charged the knight, intent on beating Sir Ranma into goo. Smirking that he had driven his adversary to frothing wrath Sir Ranma ducked underneath his strike while driving the blade of his sword deep into Blood Messiah's gut and dragging it along, disemboweling the giant D-Bee. As his enemy followed his intestines in falling to the ground with a mighty thud and Sir Ranma completed his spin while sheathing his sword and drawing his rifle, pointing it one-handed to the final bandit how had been planning to attack the knight from behind. Looking at the last enemy Sir Ranma simply said, "Wind," and fired a blast of wind from the rifle, slamming him into the far wall. As his enemy fell unconscious to the ground Sir Ranma turned towards the cage where the slaves were kept.

They were bare foot, which explained the broken glass and shards of metal that had been strew around the building. The newness of the sturdy, molecularly bonded, steel bars stood in stark contrast to the gloom, decay and sense of age which permeated the ancient building. The women, on the other hand, seemed to better match the feel of decay. Their eyes were devoid of hope and their postures showed the fear they felt towards him. Even more painful were those women who were so strung out on narcotics that they couldn't recognize their surroundings. Those hollow eyes on blessed out faces made the knight want to go down and give Luis a taste of what he inflicted. A few were fully clothed while others had only rags or were naked, causing Ranma to cast his eyes down to reduce the indignities forced upon them. Walking up to the cage he could hear the slaves huddling to the rear. The cage was sealed with a simple pad lock with some welded plates to prevent people inside the cage from reaching the lock.

'Guess I have to give 'em credit for covering the basics of imprisonment,' Sir Ranma thought as he took the lock in hand. Focusing his magic energy Sir Ranma cast a quick spell opening the lock. Opening the door he told the captives, "You're free to go. If any of you wish to Perez with me I will protect you. Either way I will be in the storage room they used as a hall taking care of some business before I leave." With that the white knight retreated from the room to wait for the women's decision. He hoped they would accept his protection but if Free Quebecois troops discovered a mystic in their boarders they would do their best to kill him.

Upon returning to the make-shift hall Sir Ranma noticed that the escaped captive he had left there had used her time to loot the bodies of the dead bandits and that Luis was starting to come around. With a vicious kick that problem was dealt with. Turning to the woman, who had alerted him to the plight of the others Sir Ranma asked, "Didn't I tell you to watch him miss?"

Surprised by the voice of her savior the woman turned to look at him and look sheepish as she said, "Well… things were quiet and no one was coming so… I thought that it might be nice to get some clothes. Just so I'd be ready if we had to run and… well I kinda forgot. Sorry."

Sighing at that Sir Ranma decided it was best to focus on the present. "At least nothing happened so don't worry about it."

As the white knight said that the pair heard approaching footsteps, causing the young woman to duck behind her savior in case it was the bandits. Instead it was the other captives, clad in what clothes they could scavenge from their former captors and carrying their guns. The apparent leader of the group, a dark-skinned elven woman, said, "We talked it over and decided to go with you."

Smiling underneath his helmet at their response Sir Ranma said, "Alright when I infiltrated I saw some vehicles, can any of you drive an ATV?"

Getting a few confirmations the white knight picked up his prize and headed out saying, "Let's go then."

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After a day's travel to quietly ex-filtrate Free Quebec and another two days to reach the city-state of Perez, also called Towerville for the worn thirty story skyscraper that survived the Great Cataclysm. He had sent a magic pigeon the day before advising his employer to meet him at the Guardpost to accept the prisoner and several captives willing to provide evidence. As he rode down the city streets on his horse, Luis Fantane draped over his saddle like a game animal, and followed behind by the people he liberated in one of the ATV's they took from the bandit's motor pool.

Standing with the right-hand man to the Head Guardsman, Daniel Perez, who had taken to handle the case Sam Hester, owner and founder of Hester's Security, a private security firm that provided mercenaries for trade caravans, was quiet pleased. After he had lost his son in a bandit attack Mr. Hester had worked to find out who was responsible and punish them. His investigations lead him to the Red Wolves and their leader Luis Fantane but when he posted the bounty no-one was taking. That was when he was contacted by a member of Bethesda Mercenary Enterprises and they agreed to bring him in. As he saw their man riding in with his son's killer draped over the beast like a trophy he felt it was money well spent. As the prisoners, a group of women who looked like they ranged from ages fourteen to twenty five, disembarked their ATV Sam was pleased. Freed slaves were good for PR and it didn't cost him any more than he was already prepared to pay.

Coming up to his employer and the representative of the local guard Sir Ranma prepared to deliver his captive. Personally Ranma would be glad to see this man hauled off in chains. Since his capture every time Luis had woken from his impromptu rests he would try to verbally or physically attack Ranma and even worse the women he used to enslave. At first there was a real risk he might succeed in getting them to do something because they still feared him, later there was a risk they would kill him and that had taken some careful talking to keep them from doing so. Still Luis continued to harass them and Sir Ranma was simply tired of the man. Dismounting and hefting the former bandit leader he addressed the men saying, "I've got a delivery for ya."

Finally getting a look at the man who had caused his business so much trouble and took his son Mr. Hester said, "You know I thought he would be taller."

Shrugging Sir Ranma replied, "False advertising I guess."

Turning to the other member Mr. Hester asked, "So is that really him?"

"He matches the descriptions we have heard and I have sensed no deceit in the knight," Daniel Perez said as he signaled for a pair of mercs to take the man and heading into the Guardpost.

"Now for your payment."

"Sir a representative of Bethesda will come by later to receive the payment," Sir Ranma said in a respectful tone.

"Very well," Mr. Hester said, understanding the situation. "Then I shall look forward to meeting with them. With their business the two men parted company as Sir Ranma prepared to wait for his teleport back to The Garden.

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Two hours past the scheduled meet time and Sir Ranma was about to search out his contact and wring his neck when he saw a figure in similar knightly armor carrying a bag and jogging towards him. Like Sir Ranma he had foregone the traditional horned demon-skull helmet for a more angelic motif and was adorned with spikes and chains. Unlike Sir Ranma's full-plate armor the other knight wore a suit of half-plate armor with padding and chainmail. Strapped to his back was a large sword with a red cross-guard in the shape of a flaming bird with an inset ruby and a pommel designed like a flame and he wore a black cloak that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. He knew this knight, able to recognize him by the style of his armor. Crossing his arms he waited for his contact to get close enough before saying, "What took you?"

The gateway knight put his head behind his helmet and said, "Well you know teleporting is not an exact science."

"What's in the bag Sir Black?" Sir Ranma asked, knowing Sir Alistair Black was far more skilled at teleportation than he would admit and, most likely, had been here since yesterday.

Opening the bag Sir Black showed its contents saying, "You know I always carry a couple pounds of plastique and a heavy fusion block in case something happens."

Looking in Ranma could easily see the two blocks of NG6 plastique and fusion block but he also saw something else. "And this?" he asked.

Seeing he had been caught Sir Black said, "Okay I might have gotten sidetracked at the Imperial Pawn Shop but I found some really rare Pre-Rifts vids."

Picking up the set of vids Sir Ranma replied with a rye voice, "The Atomic Brain, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, the Crippled Masters, Day of the Warrior, Cane Toads, Nude of the Moon…." He knew that Sir Black was an amateur archeologist and Pre-Rifts collector but his taste in movies was a little… strange. "Somehow I think their rarity is not a coincidence."

"Aww come on this is some good stuff. You should try it," Sir Black said, taking the bag back. "You ready to go?"

Sir Ranma just looked at him.

"Okay, well let's get your horse and go."

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When the Great Cataclysm brought the Age of Man crashing down the Earth underwent several dramatic changes. One of those was the return of Atlantis from the dimensional pocket it had been trapped in for millennia. The appearance of this landmass caused a massive displacement of water from the Atlantic Ocean, causing the seas to rise. As a result of this New York City was suddenly plunged underwater, consigning everyone there to an agonizing watery death. Later, during the Second Dark Age, an earth warlock had raised the city and made it part of the mainland for reasons unknown. Those ruins, the site of such vast and agonizing death, had become afflicted with a permanent psychic scar which would drive anyone within the city insane, a fact which caused many to shun the ruins all together and gave the city its new name, Madhaven. The only beings immune to the insanity were the savage Haven Mutants who lived in the ruins and may have originated from the survivors of the city. It was into this nightmarish hell that a band of desperate refugees from the destroyed town of Bloom and the few surviving members of the mystic knights who had rebelled against their evil brethren at Bloom, the founders of the Order of the White Rose. Between the creeping madness of the place, relentless attacks by the mutants and besieged by ghosts, monsters and the walking dead that could have been the end of the Order of the White Rose before it even really began had they not found The Garden.

Originally the New York Central Park the Garden was protected from the psychic scar that afflicted the rest of the ruins. It was here that the renegade knights and refugees built their own kingdom, a beckon of light surrounded by terror and madness. To add to the natural defenses of the ruins the knights and their allies built sturdy fortifications and shrouded the place in a powerful illusion to give the site a new name, the Crater of the Dammed.

With a flash of light two knights and a horse appeared before a massive crater, swarming with innumerable ghosts. Taking in the hellish site and the dilapidated ruins Sir Ranma Saotome took in a deep breath. The air was fresh, baring only the scents of a long abandoned city, but already the knight could feel the sensation that something was watching him. Next to him Sir Black spoke over the inhuman wailing of the dead saying, "Nice to be home eh?"

"Yeah it is nice to be back. Come on let's go before we go batty," the white knight said, taking the reins of his steed as he and the gateway knight walked into the Crater of the Dammed. Passing through the illusion set up by the Curtain the two knights approached Tecumseh Ridge, the easiest access point from Times Square, where they had teleported in. Beneath the shadow of an equestrian statue of what was apparently a mighty Pre-Rifts warrior the two checked in with a pair of white knights and squires standing guard the two entered the Order's secret base camp.

"Heading to the stables?" Sir Black asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, need to drop off my steed before heading the Met to debrief," Sir Ranma said, starting in that direction. "See ya."

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After making his report at the Met Sir Ranma decided to head towards Bethesda Terrace to get in some meditation before getting some dinner. Already the sun had begun to set, casting the broken cityscape alight and lengthening the shadows of the forests in the Garden. Having returned his weapons and TW Infiltrator armor to the Arsenal Sir Ranma was clad in a short-sleeved red tunic embroidered with gold with a black leather belt wrapped around his waist and loose fitting black pants with a pair of black shoes. Part of him regretted having to keep his identity secret and wanted to take credit for the deeds he performed with those outside the Order. On the other hand he realized that as a knight of the Order of the White Rose he was part of their war against the Eternal Order of the Mystic Knights, the most powerful mercenary army in all of North America. If they could capture him he would be tortured without mercy and killed like a dog, to make an example to all who would betray the evil brotherhood. In that regard Sir Ranma understood that protecting his identity not only helped him but the Order by concealing their true numbers from the mystic knights. In the end it was something he knew going into the Order so he had no one to blame but himself.

Walking along the brick and concrete walkway overlooking the Angel of the Lake Fountain Sir Ranma spotted a place that looked good for meditation and leapt down to the spot. The handful of other knights meditating near the fountain did not react as he dropped down and assumed a meditative position where he could watch the water. Centering himself Sir Ranma focused on the internal energies that flowed through his body. Years of training and mental discipline had unleashed both intuitive magical knowledge and psionic abilities that, combined with his martial arts training, helped to make him a formidable warrior. After an hour of meditation the white knight someone attempting to sneak up on him Ranma tensed and prepared to respond.

Slowly approaching her quarry the figure approached with as much stealth as she could muster. Closing in to striking distance and focused her psychic powers for the attack the figure lashed out with her fist only to find that her quarry had disappeared. Quite aware of his tricks she lashed out with a back kick only to find her leg trapped. Gazing at him with her fierce green eyes the blond woman said, "Almost got you that time."

"Almost isn't enough against the best Arturia," Ranma said with a smirk to one of his old training partners and fellow white knight with a smirk. "Besides stealth was never your thing."

"How about you let go of my leg before we disturb some of the others eh Ranma," Lady Arturia Peterson said with a smile to her old friend. He obliged her and once she was back on both feet the two the two walked away from the fountain before Ranma asked what was on his mind.

"So what did you want to see me about?"

"Oh I just wanted to congratulate you on taking a squire," Arturia said.

"WHAT!?!?"

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Storming through the entrance to the former Metropolitan Museum of Art he headed for where the Order's administration offices were located. Someone had screwed up and he was going to get things straightened out. As he strode through the building which served as headquarters for the Order of the White Rose he thought, 'I don't need to deal with this crap.'

His progression was stopped when he ran into the man who had given him the chance to realize his potential and walk the path of a white knight, the elven mystic knight Sir Addaress. "Ranma, what's the emergency?"

"I just heard from Arturia that some wise guy decided to put me up for a squire so I need to go straighten things out," Sir Ranma told his old teacher.

"Would it really be so bad to have a squire?" Sir Addaress asked of his best apprentice.

"You know I work alone. I don't need others slowing me down," Sir Ranma replied as he looked up at his former master, whose name Ranma had taken as a part of his true name as a middle name as a show of respect. With a flash of insight his face grew suspicious and Sir Ranma said, "It was you wasn't it."

"Now what makes you think that, my student?" Sir Addaress replied with a smirk.

"Aside from you being the best forger I know you have the most knowledge of my handwriting."

"Astute observations Ranma," Sir Addaress said, "And it would take a master forger to copy the hen scratch you call writing."

"Not really hearing a denial there old man," Sir Ranma said, growing annoyed. While some knights certainly had anywhere between one and four squires working with them it was not unusual for a knight not to take on any squires. Given that Sir Ranma felt put upon by his former master. It wasn't that he disliked the squires but they were technical officers, not front-line combat troops and Sir Ranma really didn't want to have to keep an eye on someone else the whole time.

"I'm only in my nineties, still plenty young enough boy," Sir Addaress said before growing serious. "Ranma I am worried about you. Aside from Alistair and Arturia you don't associate with anyone, you just train all the time when you're not on a mission."

"Hey," Sir Ranma said, slightly offended, "I spend time with my guild."

Not deterred Sir Addaress continued, "And yet you have no real friends in the guild and always go on missions alone. Ranma if you keep going on like this you will either burn out or run into something you can't handle on your own. Please just give it a chance."

Sighing in defeat Sir Ranma replied, "I guess it couldn't hurt."

Smiling at his former student Sir Addaress said, "Excellent, I've already got a mission for you two set up and if things don't work out…. Well I'll handle it." Setting off he continued, "Now let me introduce you to him. I knew him when he was training and I taught him Japanese so you two will be able to discuss things in secret."

Following his former teacher Sir Ranma said, "Someday you will have to tell me how you know Japanese."

"No I won't."

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Walking with his master lead Sir Ranma out from the Met towards where Sir Ranma's guild was stationed in Belvedere Castle. As they entered the main hall the sounds of revelry and merry-making washed over the pair. Unlike the bandit's celebrations however the good cheer was shared both by the knights and squires who were patrons of the hall and the staff who were serving them.

Sitting down at one of the tables Sir Addaress cast a spell opening a small communication rift and, after speaking quickly, closed the rift as a barmaid came to their table. "What would you like to drink my lords?" she said with a smile. Like many of the other civilians she had been one of the refugees from the town of Bloom that had survived the flight from the mystic knight's reprisals and had made a life for herself in Madhaven.

"I'll have some tea, if you please," Sir Addaress said favoring the young human woman with a killer smile that caused her face to flush. On the other side of the table Sir Ranma face-palmed at his former masters antics, while by human standards he still looked to be in his early twenties Sir Ranma had always felt a master of mysticism such as Sir Addaress should act more restrained.

"A… and you sir?" the waitress said trying to recompose herself.

"Same please," Sir Ranma said hoping to get through this embarrassing moment quickly.

"Alright please wait one moment," the waitress said winking at Sir Addaress and turning to walk away with an extra sway in her hips.

Once she was gone Sir Ranma turned to his former master and said, "Now that way just mortifying. Why must you always do that?"

"Eat drink and be merry my friend for tomorrow we die," Sir Addaress said, "You really need to loosen up Ranma. Trust me I have slept with many women over the decades and it really does wonders."

"Do we really need to have this discussion again," Sir Ranma said, burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. The last thing he needed was for his former master to be giving him "The Talk" in the common room of HIS guild. Fortunately he was saved from any further humiliation as a mountainous figure approached the table.

"Mind if I join you?" the figure asked.

"Please take a seat, we were waiting for you." Upon hearing his former master say this Sir Ranma looked up to see their guest, silently hopeful since the voice sounded masculine that the old man had not picked up another woman, it wouldn't be the first time. In that regard Sir Ranma was pleased to see the person who had joined them was a male of the squilb species. While Sir Ranma admitted that he was short by human standards he estimated the new guy's height at around eight feet. He had golden, wrinkled skin with no hair at all, tiny, almost non-existent, ears and a pair of slits for a nose which did nothing to distort his friendly barring.

"Let me introduce you two," Sir Addaress started, "Broli this is Sir Ranma Saotome, Knight of the White Rose. Sir Ranma this is Broli, Squire of the White Rose assigned to you."

Sir Ranma, pleased to meet you sir," Broli said extending his hand.

Trying his best to be polite Sir Ranma gave it a firm shake and said, "Likewise." Turing back to the Sir Addaress Sir Ranma asked, "So what is the mission you pulled for us?"

"It's a fairly simple sounding job," the other knight started.

"Aren't they all," Broli said. Sir Ranma had to agree with the squire's assessment. At this point their waitress returned with their drinks, which the two accepted before continuing the discussion.

"Heh, indeed, but this one is fairly straight forward. An archeological team from New Lazlo has finished a dig in the Pecos Empire but one their way through Lone Star has been having troubles," Sir Addaress said with all seriousness.

"What kind of troubles?" Sir Ranma asked interested to see what they would be facing.

"Apparently the Dead Boys have got it into their heads that the group is a threat and has been hunting them ever since. They need someone to help sneak them out and if necessary to show the Dead Boys the error of their ways," Sir Addaress finished with a little smirk. Having roots in the Magic Zone meant that there was little love for the Coalition States within the Order of the White Rose.

"So we might have to go up against the Coalition?" Sir Ranma said, excited by the prospect of testing himself against the Coalition's Forces. The rumors that the CS had recently improved their military hardware only made the challenge more tempting.

Chucking at the eager look on his former student's face Sir Addaress said, "Don't think I don't recognize that look Ranma, your mission is extraction, not to refight the Great War. You too Broli."

"Alright I'll try and take it easy on the Dead Boys," Sir Ranma said disappointed.

"I suppose I can let them off the hook too," Broli added with less disappointment that Sir Ranma.

"Alright since I know neither of you are telepathic; I've got a pair of ear mics for you so you can communicate with each other," Sir Addaress said. "I'll meet you at the Stables after you two have suited up with something else so later," Sir Addaress said, handing out the mics before taking his leave.

Quickly finishing his drink Sir Ranma said to his new squire, "Damn not even a day and I'm back at work. I guess we should head out while there is daylight left."

"Price of being loved I suppose," Broli said following.

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Having donned their armor and taken their weapons the pair headed to get their horses. Noticing the large, organic-looking cannon his squire was effortlessly carrying Sir Ranma asked, "That a Force Cannon?" TW Force Cannons packed a devastating punch with range comparable to a rifle but were extremely heavy, making them inaccurate for normal users.

"Yeah it's no big thing," Broli said easily, slinging the weapon over his shoulder like it weighted nothing.

'So a tough guy,' Sir Ranma thought, sizing up his squire. The man was definitely built for power and moved like he knew what he was doing but Ranma would have to see him in combat to take his true measure. As they were about to mount their horses Sir Ranma saw Sir Addaress walking up to him carrying a bundle.

"So what's in the wrap Old Man?"

"Not even a century old and I'm already getting called an old man, why did I have to take on such a disrespectful apprentice?" Sir Addaress said drawing a few applauds from the squires working as stable hands. "But seriously take this," he said tossing the bundle to Sir Ranma.

Unwrapping it Sir Ranma saw he was holding a massive claymore. The crosspiece of the blade had an inset turquoise with wires that unsheathing revealed lead into the silver blade. Stunned Sir Ranma looked at his mentor and said, "Master this is…."

"A TW Battle Fury Blade, yeah it is. While I know you like the concealability of conduit swords this can be used without channeling any energy into it, leave a bit more room for spell-casting. That and the field when it's active should make up for not being able to use your barrier shield," Sir Addaress confirmed for his former apprentice.

"Plus that silver blade is always handy down south," Broli chimed in.

"You're up on undead lore, well that'll be handy," Sir Ranma said as he strapped the sword to his back. With heartfelt gratitude he told his mentor, "Thanks for the gift, I'll make sure to take care of it." But Sir Addaress was already gone.

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One thing that distinguished Lone Star from other Coalition States was the rather limited presance relative to the area they claimed. While the Coalition claimed all of the former state of Texas as part of Lone Star they only really controlled the upper quarter of the state. The rest was controlled by gangs of bandits making up what they called the Pecos Empire. While patrols contained attacks by Pecos raiders in the area they claimed most towns were just fledgling communities. The town where the pair was to meet their contact was no exception.

Riding into the town Sir Ranma was struck by how dirty and unpleasant the town was compared to the Garden, never mind great cities like Dweomer. 'Then again I guess this is all they can do with mundane means,' the white knight thought. As he passed through Sir Ranma noticed the furtive glances the all human populace was giving his companion. As they approached the stables and hitched their steeds Sir Ranma said to Broli, "I think it might be best if you stay with the horses. Don't want to get the locals riled up."

"Yeah I noticed too. Locals sure have a way of making a guy feel welcome," Broli said.

With that Sir Ranma headed out to meet their contact.

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Walking into the small bar on the edge of town few of the small number of patrons took notices as another person walked in. Those that did took note of the armored knight with the large sword on his back as he strode into the bar fearlessly. Looking over the place Sir Ranma saw a few patrons were wearing armor of different styles and a few had pistols on their persons. A television in the corner was playing a broadcast of a week old juicer football match between Kingsdale's and Whykin's teams. The Whykin team was reconsidering their strategy as their quarterback was being put in a bodybag after having been beaten to death by a Kingsdale linebacker. Shrugging Sir Ranma shifted his gaze until he met his contact, a hooded figure in the back, trying so hard to look inconspicuous that he stood out. Approaching Sir Ranma took a seat across from the man saying, "Calm down, your making people suspicious."

Looking at him the nervous human said, "Good you're hear. We need to get moving."

"What exactly has happened?" Sir Ranma asked, "Where are the others?"

"Their dead," she man started, "We were returning from the ruins of Houston, stopping to resupply when all of a sudden the CS troops attacked us. We've been on the run ever since."

"Was there anything that might have set them off?" Sir Ranma asked. Random attacks were not the Coalition's usual M.O. causing the knight to grow suspicious.

"Well earlier that day we found a casket with a mock up of the party leader wrapped in the CS flag but that doesn't mean anything," the man said, producing a case. Pressing it into Sir Ranma's hand he said, "You need to take this and get it to Professor Sergil at the University of New Lazlo."

Before Sir Ranma could reply the doors burst open and a pair of soldiers in the blue-black armor of the Dead Boys took position at the door. Another pair of soldiers clad in grey and black armor with a stronger use of the death's head motif than the old Dead Boy armor entered with their rifles held low. One of the soldiers then said, "Nobody move, we are looking for a fugitive."

That is when things went to Hell.

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Author's Notes: Looking back I decided I had been trying to tell the sequel to a story without telling the story so now begins the epic tale of Sir Ranma Saotome and his friends. After this fic there will be a sequel where Sir Ranma will return to his native Earth but for now the action will be on Rifts Earth, though a few more characters might get brought over.

Please Read and Review. Constructive criticism, intriguing ideas and speculation as to where things are headed are welcome. Flames are not welcome.


	2. His Name Was Maverick

Wild Knight

Chapter 02: And His Name Was Maverick

By DarkJackel

Disclaimer: Rifts, its contents and constituent materials along with any other parts of the Palladium Megaverse are the property of Palladium Books. While my OC's were created by me they were created with the Occupational and Racial Character Classes from Palladium and as such I give them their due. Similarly I own nothing related to Ranma ½ either. I have no money but if they think this is good enough to make a book of it I would be very thankful for the opportunity.

Key:

"speech"

"_written word"_

'thought'

'_telepathy'_

In the dimly lit reaches of a room in the El Dorado hotel a solitary figure was setting up a long-range radio system. Working with expert hands the solitary figure set up the system. Turning it on he tested the frequencies he found what he was looking for before speaking into the system.

"TC you there?"

"…."

"Yeah this town has been a dry hole as well. Kind 'a glad since this place has been giving me a rash. Meet you at the rendezvous point cuz," the man said before turning off the set. He quickly disassembled the booster for his radio and stored it again. He would be glad to finally leave Coalition territory, though it would have been nice to get some useful information.

"Alright Maverick," he said to himself as he got up, "on to the next location."

Stepping out of the El Dorado onto the town streets Maverick wore a fringed brown cloak with a high, round collar which concealed the lower half of his face over a suit of Bandito armor. Pulling it close to conceal his modifications he made his way down the dirty streets of the red light district. It was noon and most of the inhabitants of this part of New Beaumont were asleep. During the night this place would come to life as the people who worked their plied their iniquities to their customers while criminals stalked like wolves in search of prey.

Near the border of Lone Star the town served as a magnet for bandits from the Pecos Empire as well as refugees seeking protection from the threat posed by the Vampire Kingdoms further to the south. It made for a more wild and rugged town closer to the Burbs which surround the fortress-cities of the Coalition States, with the nicer sections of town further north while the southern parts of the town had turned into a semi-lawless ghetto. It was into this part of the town that Maverick had come on rumors the people he was looking for were here. Unfortunately they apparently were not because he had found no leads and was now going in to get a bite before setting off for a new location.

As he made his way through the streets the few people outside kept clear of his path, allowing him to make good time to a seedy bar that he had frequented when not on the hunt. As he walked in the small number of customers paid him little mind, once they had decided he wasn't going to shoot the place up. Most people around here tended not to ask too many questions unless they had some reason to be involved, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing as it kept him mostly under the radar but a curse in that it made finding people harder than it needed to be. Putting all those considerations aside Maverick entered the bar and took a seat at a table and waited for service.

After a few minutes before a barmaid came up and asked, "What will you have sir?"

"I'll have an iced tea and could you get me some chips and salsa," Maverick replied in an easy manner. Of all the places he had frequented during his time here this place had some of the best tortilla chips and salsa in town. 'Shame they don't advertise it,' he thought as the barmaid left to get his order.

As he waited for his chips and drink Maverick decided to take in the other patrons. For the most part they were the normal varieties of people that inhabited the southern part of town, most of them were armed and wearing some form of armor. It was then that he took notice of a furtive figure in the far corner who was trying a little too hard to avoid notice. It was then that the barmaid arrived with his drink and chips, setting them down on the table before heading off to tend to her other customers.

As Maverick was enjoying his meal the doors flew open and a new figure strode into the room. At a glance Maverick could tell he was an outsider. Unlike the varieties of armor more commonly seen in Lone Star, the Pecos Empire and the New West this male was clad in knightly armor in red and black with spikes and chains with a faceless visor. On his back was a large sword that looked almost as tall as the knight himself. Quietly keeping an eye on the newcomer as he went over to the furtive man in the back and took a seat Maverick fought to keep down his excitement. He struggled to listen in on what they were saying; trying to find out if he had managed to find a new lead in his quest. Quietly he removed a small Geiger counter he had modified to detect magic energy and aimed it at the pair. Channeling some of his own energy into the device he was surprised to find the newcomer was charged with magic energy. After a few moments a new distraction came to interrupt his spying. The doors to the bar flew open and three Dead Boys stormed into the room. A quick glance had also suggested that there were supporting troops outside the building.

'Probably other troops were covering the exits as well,' Maverick thought. This would be trouble, especially if they had a psi-stalker of Dog Boys with them. It was then that everything went straight to hell.

Earlier that day at Lone Star Complex Lieutenant Leon Brown made his way to the office of his superior, Captain Evans Rockwell, having been summoned to discuss an upcoming mission for their unit, the 222nd Airborne Infantry. Entering the office he saw his superior and long-time friend looking over a tactical map. "Lieutenant Brown reporting as ordered sir," he said with a salute.

Returning the salute Captain Rockwell smiled and said, "At ease Leon. I just got finished with a meeting with Brigadier General Kalpov and we have a job to do."

"What's the mission sir?" the Lieutenant asked as he moved to stand beside his superior.

"Simple snatch and grab mission. About a week ago CS forces confronted a band of suspected terrorists in Lone Star territory. The group was destroyed but one member got away. Recently an informant has traced him to New Beaumont where we think he might be waiting for contacts to smuggle him out of the country. Our mission is to capture him and any of his associates or contacts for interrogation."

"What kind of resources will we have?"

"Chopper insert with a convoy of Skull Patrol Cars and a Mark IX EPC and Slingshot cover," the captain said, "Plus SAMAS support as usual."

"No support robots?" Lieutenant Brown asked. Normally when going into potentially hostile territory they had a few combat robots to support them.

"No the city itself is friendly territory and it was decided we can't risk damaging the place too much. That said we will be heading into the southern part of the city which reports say can be the New West at times," Captain Rockwell said to his old friend, "Don't worry I will be topside with the other SAMAS' backing you up, just like always. With luck this will be a smooth pickup and we'll be home in time for the nightly news."

"Luck nothing, we're the best. I'd still rather have a Spider Skull Walker or some other heavy armor backing me up," Lieutenant Brown said. "I'll go brief the troops."

In the barracks the soldiers of the 222nd were waiting for the green light for their next deployment letting off steam in various ways. In front of the barracks a basketball court had been set up where a few of the soldiers were involved in a pickup game of basketball. The game was brought to an end as they saw Lieutenant Brown approaching the barracks in his new CA-4 heavy armor. One of the soldiers walked over to the officer and said, "Hey LT what's the news?"

"We've got work Daniels," Lieutenant Brown said. "Get the others together."

As the trooper ran back towards the others to pass on the word Lieutenant Brown walked into the barracks and turned up the built-in loudspeaker in his helmet with an eye movement. Looking over the assembled troops he could tell that he had their attention. With that he said, "Alright people here is the situation we are going to a town called New Beaumont, we will be supporting a convoy picking up a suspected terrorist for interrogation. Now the part of the town we will be operating in can be New West but the town is one of ours so don't level it. Once we hit the ground you know what to do. Now let's saddle up."

With that the assembled soldiers jumped into action. As they went to done their own armor and get their gear and weapons ready for deployment Lieutenant Brown was pleased by the professionalism they displayed. As one of the grunts was suiting up he noticed another soldier casting wary glances over his shoulder. Looking the trooper understood what was setting his comrade on edge. Unlike the other troopers this one was chalk-white skinned and hairless with striking black facial tattoos that gave him a fierce appearance. Turning to the other he said, "Never seen a psi-stalker before?"

"Not really," the other soldier replied.

"Well don't worry, Drake and his boys are good to have with you in a fight and really help when supies or mages are involved. He's saved everyone here so relax," he replied to the other trooper. Mollified the other trooper returned to his preparations.

As the soldiers filled out they were greeted by the sight of the Black Lightning and Demon Locust attack helicopters that would take them into combat. Black as night, armed to the teeth and each featuring the deaths head motif that was standard on Coalition equipment they were fearsome specters of death in their own right. As he approached his Demon Locust Lieutenant Brown noticed one of the new Super SAMAS suits loading on another chopper. Switching on his internal radio he contacted the pilot and said, "See you managed to snag one of the new suits eh Captain?"

"Yeah I've been waiting for a chance to give this baby a spin," the old power armor jock said to his friend. With almost twice the armor and speed of the old "Death's Head" SAMAS with lasers, plasma cannons, grenade launchers and a set of three vibro-blades on each arm the Super SAMAS was a nasty piece of machinery. While it lacked the mini-missile launchers the old SAMAS and the new "Smiling Jack" SAMAS but that was a small trade-off in the end.

"Well tell me how it runs after the op, kay. Give me something to tell the girls back home," Lieutenant Brown said as he walked off. He had two daughters with his wife back home in Chi-Town and, thanks to his close association with Evans he had been able to feed his youngest daughter's interest in machines. With his achievement of an officer's rank it would be a lot easier for her to get government authorization to learn how to read and eventually study mechanics. The knowledge that he was ensuring a better, safer life for his children was what gave the trooper the courage to face the countless threats that came with being one of the defenders of humanity. Pushing those thoughts aside he entered the chopper, took his seat and strapped in for the ride once again.

Now fully loaded the helicopters began bringing their rotors up to speed and lifted into the skies. As they did eight CS Scout Rocket Cycles took their places around the attack helicopters. Travelling at a matching speed with the small convoy below, they set off for New Beaumont.

Watching from his position on the Demon Locust helicopter as the grasslands below flew by Corporal Jason Daniels began mentally preparing for the coming mission and double checking the status of his jet pack. As much as he wanted to get to ground and take part in the mission he would rather a jet-controlled descent to freefall and a sudden stop. Seeing confirmation that the nuclear engine was functional and no other problems existed in the pack on his armor's computer the CS Commando turned to one of his squad mates and said "Seems like a lot of guys for just one man."

"I heard he might be meeting contacts. Guess we're there to keep them hemmed in."

Shrugging Jason returned to the scenic view and began checking his gear again, this was his first mission and he didn't want to slow the others down.

Keeping pace with the attack helicopters and rocket cycles a small convoy of three CS Skull Patrol Cars and a Mark IX EPC sped along the ground to the target, with two of the hover cars taking lead and the third covering the rear of the light personal transport. There were there to take custody of the captive and transport them in base for imprisonment and interrogation. Inside the Mark IX there were four grunts to provide security to their captive or captives along with a military scientist from the Rift Control Study Group (RCSG) who had been added to the operation because of possible magic involvement. Clad in the new CA-3 light "Dead Boy" armor the RCSG scientist prepared himself for action. He and a couple other troopers would be going in to make the catch and verify whatever magic weapon the terrorist had with him.

As the convoy approached New Beaumont they slowed to allow the helicopters to reach their position and establish a perimeter to cordon off their prey where their spies had said he was. Suddenly the bay doors of one of the Demon Locust helicopters opened up to disgorge the five SAMAS suits of power armor within. With the roaring of their engines the flight-enabled suits spread their wings and began scanning the streets with their rail-guns to look for any ambushes while the rocket cycles spread out to further the search area. Within the Black Lightning helicopters snipers took up trained their guns on the building and streets to watch as civilians scattered before the Coalition forces, hoping not to get caught in the crossfire if a firefight began. Then the other Demon Locusts took up position and, with mechanical precision, disgorged their soldiers, descending via jet pack to predetermined locations.

Finally, with air cover established and the perimeter secured, the convoy pulled up to the bar where the target was located. As the soldiers disembarked from the patrol cars and EPC two grunts took up position at either side of the door while the others moved to cover any other possible exit. Seeing that the exits were now covered the RCSG scientist and two other troopers entered the room, the scientist striding forward while the others took up guard positions to watch the room. In an authoritative voice the black and grey clad scientist said, "Nobody move, we are looking for a fugitive."

That is when things went to Hell.

It was things like this that made Sir Ranma wonder if his ancestors had done something to gain the attention of the dreaming Old Ones or some other spiteful deity. What had originally been a simple pickup and escort mission just got a lot trickier and his client looked like he would jack rabbit. 'Yeah this is just what I needed,' the white knight thought as he tried to calm the man down with empathic transmission. Unfortunately it only seemed to increase the man's agitation. It was through an act of will that Sir Ranma refrained from face palming when his client leapt from the chair and made for the back door as he produced a heavy ion pistol and began firing wildly.

The Dead Boys responded with the speed and efficiency of a well trained and well oiled machine ducking the wild shots and bringing their rifles to bear on the suspect. Crimson bolts of laser light shot out towards the fleeing man, piercing through already damaged light body armor and vaporizing the body underneath. Like a train wreck in process Sir Ranma watched as the steaming pieces of his former client hit the wooden floor with a sick thud. The soldier in the more skeletal looking, black and grey armor then said, "Nobody move everyone will be searched, there is no escape."

"Oh screw it," Sir Ranma whispered to himself as he completed a superhuman speed spell. There was no way he was going to be searched and questioned by Dead Boys, besides a part of him wanted to test himself against the Dead Boys new toys. Performing a twisting roll from his seat Sir Ranma launched himself at the opponent in the new-style armor while drawing his TW Battle Fury sword and channeling his energy into the blade to engage the Battle Fury mode. As he drew close to his target the Dead Boys began pumping him with laser fire; however the crimson bolts did not even affect the magical barrier projected by his sword. Before his target move Sir Ranma delivered a powerful two-handed slash which cut deep into the armor immediately followed by a second slash delivered with speed that would blind a rattlesnake. As the two halves of the Dead Boy fell to the ground Sir Ranma noticed another trooper radioing for aid and attempted to distract him with a bolt of magic energy.

Upon hearing that they would be searched Maverick knew he would have to take action. He couldn't take the chance that one of the inspectors might be able to recognize techno-wizardry, which would be a quick trip to a prison camp or a firing squad. However he was beaten to the punch by the guy in knightly armor, who launched at the group's leader and cut him down with blistering speed before shooting a bolt of magic energy at the soldier calling for backup. However the knight didn't seem to have noticed the other soldier cocking his laser assault rifles built-in grenade launcher and taking aim at him. Standing up Maverick pumped a little of his magic energy into one of his holsters, causing the gun inside it to teleport into his waiting, and already aimed, hand.

As he sensed the flare of magic energy behind him Sir Ranma cursed himself for missing the presence of another magic-user in the bar. 'At least he seems to be shooting in the same direction as me,' the knight thought as he heard the shots strike the other Dead Boy. Running over to the soldier he had just shot Sir Ranma cleaved off his right arm as the soldier tried bring his rifle to bear and followed with a second strike opening the man up. As the man fell more soldiers stormed into the building as pandemonium broke out with people running for their lives as the fight began to escalate. Sir Ranma became a whirlwind of death, cutting down men left and right until he was alone with the magic-using gunman who had backed him up. Sir Ranma was about to comment on his helmet, which strangely enough looked like a metal cowboy hat with an attached visor when the other man spoke.

Looking out the window at the remaining troops and patrol cars Maverick noted that it looked like the cars were going to open up. 'Damn and I liked this place,' he thought realizing what was going to happen. Turning to the other guy he said, "Hey you if ya like living it's time to go." With that the two made their way to the back exit.

Outside the officer in charge saw that his men were getting killed. Already things had gone to hell as the person they had been sent to capture was dead and there was no reason to continue this in his eyes. Turning to the car driver he said, "Alright everyone, light that place up." CS Skull patrol cars turned towards the bar and opened fire with their plasma turrets and sent a volley of plasma mini-missiles into the bar, consuming the old wooden structure in their flames.

Before the patrol cars unleashed their fury on the seedy bar, Sir Ranma and Maverick charged through the narrow corridor that lead to the restrooms and, further down, emptied into a small side street. Being more familiar with the building design Maverick led the way and barreled headlong into the alleyway. In his flight he accidentally slipped on something, falling on his back. Unfortunately he was noticed by a group of Dead Boys that had already captured the other patrons for interrogation. A pair of soldiers approached to take him into custody when, without notice, a massive blade punched through the wall and into the helmeted head of the closest soldier.

With the fluidity of water Sir Ranma slid his blade from the corpse and lashed out at the other soldier, gouging a deep cut in his armor. As Maverick finished off the man with three quick shots from his TW Starfire pistol Sir Ranma noticed a couple more Dead Boys aiming a CR-1 rocket launcher at the two of them. Fortunately before they could fire and kill one, if not both, of the two men a large figure stepped out and shot the case carrying their mini-missiles. As the two soldiers were consumed in flame and shrapnel the bar exploded in flames, blinding the pair. As the pair's eyes readjusted they saw a large man in armor standing behind where the Dead Boys had once been holding a large, organic-looking cannon in his hands with a pair of packs.

Maverick noticed this man wore armor similar to his current companion's, though less ornate. 'A subordinate or junior member then,' the techno-wizard thought, 'Or maybe just less flamboyant.' He recognized the gun as a TW Force Cannon, a weapon too heavy for most humans to use, that, combined with his great height, told Maverick that their savior was probably a D-Bee.

While grateful for the save Sir Ranma wanted to know why Broli had countermanded his instructions. If his squire was just going to do his own thing Sir Ranma wanted to know, that way he wouldn't look foolish giving out pointless orders. Looking up at the large squire Sir Ranma asked, "I thought you were with the horses?"

With a casual shrug Broli answered, "I was with the horses when the helicopters made themselves known. The Dead Boys were locking down every form of mass transit and garage and a rifle team was heading to check the stables. Having decided things had taken a turn for the worse so I bagged up your rifle and my cannon, grabbed the bags, your shield and headed out to find you. So what's the plan now sir?"

Taking quick stock of his situation Sir Ranma was about to tell the others his plan when his sharp eyes noticed incoming threats. "Broli, incoming," the knight yelled as two Scout Rocket Cycles charged down at them in a strafing run, rapid-fire pulse lasers blazing.

As Broli took cover against one of the buildings Sir Ranma telekinetically leapt to one building and, with a second leap, reached the fast-flying Coalition machines. As he past Sir Ranma lashed out with his Battle Fury Blade and took the head of each pilot with two quick strokes before landing in a crouch and flicking the blood from his blade. With no pilot control the pair of Rocket Cycles continued on their path, slamming into the side of a building in a violent explosion.

"Okay that works," Maverick said after watching the knight decapitated two men with his techno-wizard weapon. "So what's next?"

"Broli," Sir Ranma asked his squire as he sheathed his blade and took his gear, "we need to get out of the view of their areal recon. Did you see anyway underground?"

"Yeah I saw a manhole a few streets back we can use to get to the sewer system," Broli replied.

"Alright lets go with that," Sir Ranma said before asking Maverick, "You coming or not?"

Seeing that he was already in the deep end Maverick decided to follow them and hopefully avoid capture. With a quick nod he followed the other two, trying to keep up with the two, obviously more physically inclined people in front of him. When they came to an intersection in front of the manhole they were attacked by two more soldiers but gunned them down in a hail of magical starfire, lightning and force bolts from their weapons. Upon reaching the manhole cover Broli shouldered his TW Force Cannon and lifted the several hundred pound cover and quickly hurled it at a grunt that just rounded the corner. The heavy manhole cover flew like a discus straight and true, striking the man in the neck as he was about to open fire on the trio and ripping his head off.

As the man fell dead Broli went down the hole, his large, muscular frame squeezing through the hole to the underground. The stink of human waste and stagnant water made for an almost overpowering stench but the squilb crinkled his nose slits and scanned the area, his natural nightvision compensating for the darkness until he could turn on a flashlight mounted on the center of his breastplate. Scanning the feted sewer's dank corridors and murky, fouled waters with his cannon Broli saw no immediate threats and shouted up, "Clear."

With the clear signal Sir Ranma waved Maverick down the hole. As the cloaked man went down the hole a Black Lightning attack helicopter opened fire on the pair with its rail-guns. As the hail of electromagnetically accelerated rounds streaked towards the men Maverick let go the rails and fell quickly down the hole while Sir Ranma drew his shield and pumped enough of his own magic energy into it to allow the shield to deflect the rounds away from him. Once there was a break in the lead storm raining on him Sir Ranma hopped down the shaft, using his psionic power of levitation to slow his descent into the gloom.

As he flew over the town, testing the performance of his new suit of power armor, Captain Rockwell cursed as he listened to the operation when straight to hell several times over. Their target was dead and his apparent allies were now on the run. With a quick chin-movement he toggled the radio of his Super SAMAS to get in touch with the helicopter crew. "Lightning 1," he said, "stay on the target. Also I want you and Lightning 2 to release your snipers, given the nature of the threat I want them able to operate independently."

"Roger sir'" the two helicopter crews said in unison.

Switching to a general channel as he saw his orders being carried out on his radar Captain Rockwell said, "Command Sergeant Major Tomas, I want you and to send a fire team to the enemy entry point and try to track them down while another try and find out where the two are going. I will have computer images of them sent to your computer."

"Yes sir," the commando squad leader said crisply.

Seeing another message light on his HUD the captain switched to that channel and said, "Go ahead."

"Sir we are dealing with magic-users, do you want us to join the hunt as well?" asked Master Sergeant Drake asked. It was a sensible question as the psi-stalker and his Dog Boys were specialists in hunting and neutralizing magic-users, enemy psychics and supernatural threats and had saved the unit several times over with their experience. However the sewer environment would prevent the mutant dogs from using their keen senses of smell and while their psychic ability to sense magic and magic-users would most likely compensate the captain wanted to keep something in reserve.

"Keep you powder dry sergeant, I want you available to back up any of the checkpoints if they try to make a break for it."

"And if they try to escape via the drainage system?"

"I am already checking the mission files for the map of the town sewer system to find the drainage spots. I am going to have the choppers and P.A.s to cover them. Just wait Drake, I get the feeling you'll get your shot," Captain Rockwell said as he continued his flight through the skies above New Beaumont. This was why he hated dealing with magic-users, it was hard to gauge their exact capabilities and it was hard to train men to react to an opponent who can violate the rules of physics so what should have been a quick and easy mission was turned into a bloody mess.

Having travelled a fair way down the sewers in order to evade any pursuers who would eventually come after them Sir Ranma, Broli and Maverick came to a stop in order to rest and plan their next step. After checking for any pursuit Sir Ranma turned to the magic-using gunman and asked, "Thanks for the save back there but I was wondering, who are you?"

"Name's Maverick," the techno-wizard said, not really surprised as they finally had a chance to introduce yourself. "How about you two?"

"Broli," the large man said as he shook hands with the cloaked human that had joined up with them, "heavy weapons specialist and gourmet chief at your service."

"And you."

Sir Ranma took a moment to think about his response. Before he had always worked alone and did his best to not give out his name but now that he had a squire, Sir Ranma realized, he would need to give a name just so the other man had something to call him. He could use his name but that would not necessarily be for the best. First it was not uncommon for magic-users to take on nicknames or codenames in order to make it harder for people to learn their true name. Letting ones true name fall into the hands of someone else was extremely bad because it gave the people who acquired that name great power over the person. Moreover as a member of the Order of the White Rose it would be a benefit to conceal his identity to make it harder to identify him as a member of the order. Realizing that he needed a codename Sir Ranma thought about what he should call himself. Remembering his younger days and some of the patrols he had made into the ruins of Madhaven, particularly his forays into the museums and a name associated with both a powerful Pre-Rifts automobile and a WWII fighter. 'Plus my name translates into Wild Stallion anyways,' Sir Ranma thought. Satisfied he replied to the other man, "Mustang. So you know what we can do to get out of this town?"

"Well I am not from around here but if I would bet that they have blockaded the town," Maverick said as he holstered his pistol and pulled out a map of the town and a compass.

"Well the stables are out of the picture, I saw them get locked out myself," Broli said, shouldering his TW Force Cannon as he did. It was times like this that Broli wished that he had a suit of armor that was environmentally sealed so he wouldn't have to deal with the stench. Unfortunately because of the design requirements needed for a magic-user's armor and the fact they were refugees developing fully environmentally sealed armor for the squires had never been a priority. 'On the other hand I guess stench builds character.'

"They can't have locked down the whole town," Maverick offered as he studied his map. "They definitely would have the city gates and probably the cities septic system as well so they are hopefully short on manpower. If we can get to my hotel we can use my truck to shoot our way out of this dust bowl and make an escape."

"Your truck," Mustang said to Maverick skeptically.

"Yeah it has forward mounted plasma cannons, a float system and magic invisibility so it should be able to blast through a barricade and evade pursuit once we break out," Maverick said, bragging slightly about the abilities of his machine.

"I've been meaning to ask, what's with the hat?" Broli asked pointing to the metal cowboy hat the new guy was wearing.

"It's a techno-wizard device my mentor came up with to emulate the gun-fighting skills of gunslingers or gunfighters. It's got an optics enhancement and improved reaction time and coordination with an all-day charge so I just need to recharge it every day. Between that and my specially made holsters I can match the skills of professional gunmen. Pretty cool isn't it," Maverick said with pride.

"In other words without that you're just another guy with a pistol," Mustang said to the other man.

"Shut up Mustang."

Upon reaching the open manhole the commandos dropped two fragmentation grenades and a flash bang to clear the way for the soldiers. With an almost mechanical precision the soldiers dropped down the hole, having abandoned their jet packs, which would be useless and possibly dangerous in the methane filled sewer. Scanning the darkened passages with their passive nightvision the five-man fire team began tracking their quarry through the darkened depths of the sewer, Command Sergeant Major Tomas taking point.

Topside the other fire team began heading for a location where they can quickly deploy to make a pincer attack against the targets once they had been tracked by the fire team. Because of the anticipated close-quarters fighting the topside team had retained their two troops with exo-skeletons and CR-200 "Dead Man" rail-guns while the downside team took both C-29 "Hellfire" plasma cannons.

Keeping to the concrete walkways to avoid the murky feted waters below the two magic-users and D-Bee warrior walked in relative silence, with Maverick stopping to double-check his map at seemingly random intervals. The other two were keeping a watch out for both Coalition troops and any monsters which could be living in the sewers beneath the city. "Maverick, how long until we get to your place?" Broli asked curiously.

"About five more manholes I think," Maverick replied as he checked his map again.

"You think," Mustang replied, slightly exasperated.

"Yeah I think, remember that I am trying to navigate the sewers with a map of the city streets and a compass. You want to try your hand at navigating like this?" Maverick shot back.

Without warning the murky waters roiled and churned as a trio of dark colored serpents with curling, swept back horns set above and in front of their eyes erupted from the depths, excited by the sound of new prey. As the water serpents appeared Maverick, Mustang and Broli separated so as not to provide a convenient target for the beasts. Broli leapt back as one of the water serpents lunged at him, trying to seize him with its maw of razor sharp teeth. With a roll the squilb squire avoided a goring attack from another of the serpents. Coming up in a crouch Broli opened fire with his TW Force Cannon on the attacking beasts, striking one of them with his shot. The serpent roared in pain and rage as the triple bolt of magical force energy burned a deep crater in its flesh.

Meanwhile the newly dubbed Mustang danced around lashes from the third serpent, which seemed to decide he would make for an interesting meal. 'That will be a mistake,' the white knight thought with frustration. 'I really don't need this today,' Mustang thought, so far today had been pure crap. His contact had decided to get himself killed which had caused him to have to fight his way out of this mundane town with a new squire and another guy he met an hour ago. So far the only ray of light is that he had been given a package which apparently needed to deliver if he could escape. Deciding to try and conserve his energy he drew his TW Storm Rifle and snap off a quick blast of lightning at the predatory creature. With an angry hiss the monster lashed out again to no avail before he took another shot, this time by Maverick with his TW Starfire pistol. Deciding that the prey was not worth the effort the water serpent sank beneath the water and retreated.

The two serpents that remained were fairing little better in their hunting. While Broli had not been able to fire them again he was still alive and Maverick had been providing some cover fire with his pistol. Though it lacked the punch that Broli's cannon had it could still hurt the supernaturally tough hide of the monster. With two shots from Maverick's pistol and a lightning bolt from Mustang's rifle the already wounded water serpent fell dead, its scaly hide making a wet crashing sound as it slammed into the concrete. Now alone and facing more dangerous prey than it had expected the remaining serpent hesitated before slinking into the depths of the murky waters.

"Okay you two, dial back on the arguments until we get back to the streets," Broli said in a scolding tone, "I'd rather not give the Dead Boys anymore time to catch up." While they had gotten out of this fight without injury he knew well enough that they had been lucky that so few monsters had shown up. Additionally Broli was sure that the Dead Boys were tracking them and he didn't want to be slowed down by random encounters. Quelled by the squire's outburst the two humans piped down and the trio continued their trek down the darkened corridors.

Unbeknownst to the three they already had an observer. Crafted of a matt-black metal with a high degree of mobility the robot designed to look like a rat was ideal for stealth and bore the skeletal appearance popular with the Coalition States Armed Forces. With glowing red optical receptors watched the three targets continue on their trek, silently relaying its data back to its master.

Command Sergeant Major Tomas, leader of the rifle team that was pursuing the enemy through the sewers watched the video-feed from the Skelebot Recon Rat in the H.U.D. display in his helmet as he led his men. They had switched to internal mikes and moved with speed and silence while maintaining communication between them. Using infrared vision to see and wearing the new CA-4 body armor they blended in naturally with the gloom of the mostly-darkened sewer. They had been tracking the group through a rather circuitous route, which suggested that the enemy did not have a map of the sewer system. Given the reports he guessed they were probably using magic or something else to compensate. Double checking the path they had traveled against the map that was on another H.U.D. screen Tomas felt he had figured out where they were going and relayed that information to his other fire team topside to set up an ambush.

Sighting down his CP-50 "Dragonfire" laser pulse-rifle and grenade launcher Corporal Jason felt slightly more apprehensive about the coming fight. Although thankfully not psychic to any degree his gut had a habit of telling him when he was going to be in a dangerous situation. It had served him well when he was a kid, living in the lower levels of Chi-Town and he decided that it was worth listening to again. Reaching forward he cocked the pump-action grenade launcher that was integrated into his pulse-rifle, loading one of the four stored micro-fusion grenades into the chamber. Feeling more confident about the situation Jason continued his silent advance with the rest of the squad, ready to give these terrorists a much needed beating.

As Maverick came to a halt at the latest ladder to a manhole and both Broli and Mustang hoped that they would finally be able to leave this sewer. After an hour they had yet to acclimate to the smell and Mustang was already regretting not learning the cleanse spell. Like other mystics the white knights learned magic spells through meditation upon achieving new levels of enlightenment. While their spies in the Eternal Order of the Mystic Knights had uncovered the secrets to learning spells without having reached a new level of enlightenment the amount of meditation required was prohibitive. However the idea of smelling like excrement until he got back to civilization was making the idea of taking a month or more off to meditate for the spell.

"This the spot?" Broli asked in a whisper, not wanting to attract more monsters. While they had only seen some rats since their fight but he wasn't willing to chance it. As he asked he scanned the surroundings with his force cannon, eyes alert to hidden threats.

"Yeah this is the place," Maverick replied, as happy as the others to be leaving this stinking labyrinth. "Things should be smoo…."

"Incoming," Mustang shouted as he pulled the techno-wizard to the side. Having been alerted by his sixth sense Broli dodged the crimson bolts of light which lanced out at them from the darkness. In the anemic light that graced this section of sewer the three saw that five Dead Boys in new-style armor had rounded the corner and were attacking them. Activating the armor of Ithan generator that he had built-into his armor Maverick began returning fire with his TW Starfire pistol while Broli took cover behind a downed section of wall and joined the fight.

Allowing a pair of white-hot plasma bolts to harmlessly strike his chest Mustang calmly drew down on the attacking soldiers. As he put a lightning bolt into one of them he had to resist the urge to scoff at their attempts. Years of training had altered his aura such that mundane energy could not harm him at all and now he was going to show a few more of Prosek's finest the folly of relying on mere technology. It was then that his keen eyes noticed one of the soldiers going for the trigger to a built-in grenade launcher. Dropping his rifle and drawing his TW Barrier Shield Mustang quickly activated the targeted deflection magic built into the techno-wizard device and charged the soldiers.

Seeing that one of the enemies seemed immune to their laser and plasma weapons Corporal Jason decided to see if he was also immune to explosives. As he did this he noticed the enemy had forgone ranged combat and was charging them with a shield. The micro-fusion grenade, one of the newer weapons developed by the Coalition, flew straight and true into the shield… and was promptly redirected right back at them. The corporal dropped prone as the explosive device sailed through the space he once occupied to hit the wall behind them and detonate.

Guided by his intuition Mustang closed his eyes just before the grenade round detonated with a brilliant explosion. 'Well at least it wasn't a frag,' the white knight thought. Even though he was impervious to energy there were a few things that he wasn't impervious to, such as magic energy, kinetic energy and physical attacks. Additionally he knew Broli was not impervious to energy attacks and didn't feel like trusting to luck that Maverick would have built such a spell into his armor. As he drew closer to the soldiers he drew and activated his TW Conduit Sword, causing a two-foot long blade of crystallized energy to emerge from the hilt. And then he was amongst the enemy and the real fight could begin.

As he got back to his feet Corporal Jason dropped his rifle and drew his vibro-knife and vibro-tomahawk in anticipation of close combat. Barely parrying a thrust by his opponents, obviously, magic sword the green soldier tried to bring his vibro-tomahawk down on the knight only to be blocked by his shield. With a grace and speed beyond what he thought possible Mustang got behind the other man and drove his sword through the back of his knee.

From the way he was fighting Mustang could tell that his opponent was not yet proficient enough at paired weapons combat to take full advantage of his style and decided to test the strength of this new armor. Leading with a feint he got the soldier to commit to a parry with his knife, creating an opening Mustang used to get around him in a crouch. Then, switching to a reverse grip on his sword Mustang drove the blade into the back of his knee with the full weight of his body behind the blow. As he drove his blade through the troopers knee Mustang was impressed by the strength of the Dead Boys new armor, if he hadn't put all of his strength into a blow at a weak point in the armor he might not have defeated the armor. Deflecting a pair of vibro-bayonets which were attached to a pair of CP-40's with his shield before withdrawing his blade from his victim's knee and rising while parry another attack with a vibro-short sword.

Tomas cursed as one of his new soldiers went down as his blade was deflected by the enemy. After giving orders to the two riflemen to rejoin the man with the plasma cannon in suppressing the other two enemies while he dealt with the knight who had injured his soldier. He made a few quick slashes with his sword, guiding him towards the edge of the walkway. With luck he would be able to trip his opponent into the waters and buy time necessary to kill the other two men and focus their efforts on bringing him down hard. As he fought he heard the faint click click of the triggers of laser rifles and the dull hum of the heavy plasma cannon. Unlike the sci-fi vids from before the Cataclysm modern laser weapons made no more noise than turning on a flashlight. Some businesses worked to benefit off of the psychological need for people to have their laser weapons make "cool blaster sounds" by adding simple noise generators set to produce such noises. The Coalition did not cater to this strange urge, for which Tomas was grateful, he preferred the silence. In reply to the Coalition fire was a different dull hum sound from the odd, organic looking cannon and a distinctive crackle from the other enemy's pistol. Parrying a slash from the knight and hoped back to avoid a shield bash that would have knocked him on his ass. It was times like this he was grateful for the combat computer in his brain which, along with extensive training in combat techniques, had allowed him to fair so well against the knight. He did not fare so well against the follow up thrust, which scored against his chest plate, marring the abstract death's head image on it. That was the third time he had managed to hit the soldier and he wasn't sure if it would hold much longer. An indicator light flashed on his H.U.D. to show that his second team was in position. 'Finally,' he thought, glad that the noose was tightening. With a blink he ordered the trap be sprung. It took only an instant but against such a skilled opponent an instant was all it took. Suddenly Tomas had a blade of crystalline energy in his heart.

Topside one of the rail-gunners clad in an exo-skeleton grunted slightly as he lifted the heavy manhole cover so that the commando with demolitions training could drop a heavy fusion block down the hole. The briefcase-shaped explosive device fell with all the grace and speed of a brick as the manhole was quickly covered up. It was a simple but effective plan, the first fire team would pin the enemy down with suppressing fire while the second team, them, got in position. Then they would drop a fusion block on where the terrorists would be pinned, hopefully killing all three of them. After that the two riflemen would descend to help mop up while their sniper and rail-gunners maintained topside positions in case any of them managed to escape. With the plan in motion the two riflemen began a silent countdown while the exo-skeleton clad rail-gunner prepared to lift the manhole again.

Hearing the noise from above Maverick was not surprised when something dropped down from above. Suspecting an explosive the young techno-wizard teleported a gun into his other hand and took aim at the falling device. While his TW Starfire pistol was sleek and graceful in its design the other was tubular in its design with a rounded cover on the business end of the barrel with six holes arrayed around the edge of the gun. Similarly the different gun served a different purpose. Guided by his helmet's magic he aimed his TW Jammer pistol and fired. The bolt of magic flew straight and true, striking the falling explosive.

To the soldiers watching it seemed nothing happened but when the fusion block hit ground and then… nothing. The jammer had negated the detonation mechanism on the fusion block but Maverick knew it would only last for a few seconds so, clenching the gun in his teeth, he picked up the block, taking fire as he did so. Hefting the explosive the techno-wizard hurled it towards the murky depths before rushing for more cover as the negation ended and the fusion block detonated.

"Nice shooting Tex," Broli said with some relish as his cannon claimed another Dead Boy. While things were going well enough Broli had no illusions about fighting the entire Coalition force here. As such he wanted to get on the move fast. As soon as he saw two more soldiers drop down the squilb let his frustration show. Rising to his full height, an average eight feet even, he grabbed the faceplate of one of the soldiers, lifted him up and threw him with such force that he slammed into the other side of the wall with an echoing crash. Although it did not damage his armor the kinetic energy of the crash carried through and rendered the man unconscious to fall to the waters below. As this was happening Maverick snapped off a shot at the other newcomer at point blank range.

After realizing that their plan had failed the second trooper struck Maverick with the butt of his rifle, knocking the wizard back, only to find himself staring at the business end of Broli's TW Force Cannon. "Good night," Broli said as he pulled the trigger. The triple-bolt of force energy easily broke through the damaged chest plate and atomized the body inside it.

As he plunged the fatal strike Mustang opened himself up to claim the dying soldier's energy, which he knew would double at the moment of his death. Although the knight found the act of human sacrifice repellant in those moments of mortal combat, when he knew he was about to kill an opponent, the tactic would help replenish some of the magic energy he had used. Feeling the surge of energy that signified his death Mustang drew the mist like blue-white energy into his own body, integrating it with the power already stored in his body. While the man's energy was nowhere near his own reserves he did have more than the average mundane human adult. With that done the white knight fell upon the remaining soldiers. Seeing their unit nearly annihilated the soldier's took their wounded mender and escaped. Turning to the others Mustang said, "I think they are on to us."

Mimicking the act of scratching his chin in thought Broli said, "You know I think you're on to something." Dropping the humorous tone he continued, "But what do we do?"

Sir Ranma dwelled on this for a moment. Even back when he was training Sir Addaress had commented on his skill at thinking up strategies on the fly. It was a trait which had saved his life time and again in other life threatening situations. Coming to a decision he spoke, "Okay here is the plan. The Dead Boys seem to have figured out that we are coming out here so we'll have to throw them a curveball. Maverick, you and Broli go to the next manhole and make for your truck."

"What will you be doing?" the other human asked. After all merely moving to the next exit point was unlikely to throw the Coalition forces for very long and Maverick wanted to make sure he wasn't being sent down the river.

"I'm going to be the distraction," Mustang said as he picked up his rifle and put in a fresh clip, "Since the Dead Boys went to all the trouble of setting up this fine trap it would be a damn shame to not spring it." Walking to stand beneath the manhole cover he then said, "Now remember when you get your truck to pick me up. I'm counting on you two."

Smiling under his helmet Broli replied, "Guess we can find the time sir."

With that Mustang crouched down in preparation and fired a bolt from his rifle into the cover. As it was blown apart by the force of the blast the white knight launched into a telekinetic leap, taking him to the top and the battle was on.

As he listened on the radio Sergeant Drake heard things go to hell. Hearing that he had quickly gotten the go ahead from the captain and now he and his dog boys were racing to the ambush site. A predator from birth the psi-stalker soldier was looking forward to a fight with someone skilled in close-combat and the thought of consuming his magic energy only added to his anticipation. Driven by hunger and excitement the psychic vampire urged his squad of mutant hounds to go faster so he could engage his prey sooner.

Having reached the top of the manhole ladder with his first leap Sir Ranma executed a second telekinetic leap, avoiding the first shot of several snipers that had taken position in the square. As the sniper's lasers ineffectually struck him Sir Ranma worked his magic, casting Armor of Ithan and Superhuman Speed as well as Breathe Without Air to increase his defenses and offense. As he flew through the air on his arc his sixth sense screamed a warning at him. Maneuvering his body he barely dodged bursts from a pair of rail-guns which were being fired by soldiers in bulkier exo-skeletons which bore a clear resemblance to the new style of Dead Boy armor.

While the snipers were an annoyance but they couldn't really hurt him, the rail-guns however could, so Sir Ranma decided to deal with them first. Using his TW Storm rifle the knight fired a pair of lightning bolts at an exposed rail-gunner, striking him in the chest and causing him to seek cover. Touching down lightly on the ground the knight was going to follow the soldier when the Dog Boy squad charged him, vibro-weapons humming menacingly. Doing a quick spin to take in the soldiers that tried to surround him he noticed some differences in the equipment the psi-hounds, otherwise known as dog boys, were using. While some of the soldiers were wearing the traditional Dog Boy riot armor others were wearing what looked to be CA-1 and CA-2 armor, repurposed to fit the mutant animals. Their leader, who leading the pack with vibro-sword drawn, was in the new armor and bore a spiked helmet and the PSI emblem on his pauldron that made the knight believe he was facing a psi-stalker. Despite their human supremist views the Coalition States did use mutant animals as warrior slaves for their army. Additionally they had no problems using psi-stalkers to serve in their army. The human mutants had potent abilities to hunt and track mages and supernatural creatures and a psychic affinity for animals that made them natural leaders for the Dog Boys.

Shouldering his rifle Sir Ranma drew and ignited his TW Conduit sword while readying his shield and activating its targeted deflection. With a savage grin concealed by his helmet he charged to meet the psychic vampire and his mutant dogs in battle. As the crystalline blade of magic energy struck the vibrating longsword the two clenched for an instant before breaking apart. As he separated Sir Ranma entered a ducking spin to deflect a vibro-axe blow with his shield as he disemboweled the mutant pit-bull with his sword. Coming up as the dog boy fell towards the pile of entrails that had been torn from his body the white knight parried a blow from a mutant beagle's vibro-claw vambrace and crushed his unarmored face with the TW Barrier shield. Hurling the corpse aside Sir Ranma ducked a hail of rail-gun rounds and launched himself at the psi-stalker again.

Angered by the deaths of his subordinates Sergeant Drake gave a feral war whoop as he met the unnaturally fast charge of the magic-user in front of him. He would make this man pay for what he had done, drain him of his energy and maybe soften him up a little for the interrogators. Until then, however he was going to enjoy showing this man who was the predator and who was the prey.

Several blocks away from the intensifying fight the people of the town remained hidden, hoping to avoid the destructive weaponry being used by the combatants. As such there were none to take notice of the manhole in the street opening or the figures exiting it. One of them was a giant figure, clad in a light armor like something a knight would ware and carrying a large pack and exotic looking cannon, the other was more normal looking in a fringed brown cloak and an odd hat-shaped helmet. The largest of the pair looked down at his companion and asked, "Okay which way?"

"Over here," the shorter one, Maverick, said as they moved into the shadow of a nearby building and began moving as stealthily as they could. The streets were quiet, save for the sounds of combat a few blocks away and making the task that much harder. As the continued to Mavericks apartment Broli did the best he could to move silently, having never been trained in stealth himself. However as he observed he noticed Maverick moving quietly with the skill of one with training, aided by his cloak which seemed to draw the shadows around him. As they approached the hotel Broli pulled Maverick up short.

"What gives," the techno-wizard said with some irritation.

Broli didn't reply with words but merely pointed to the garage where a pair of Dead Boys was waiting, clad in the blue-black old-style armor and carrying C-12 heavy laser assault rifles. Seeing the shadows which covered the area, however, gave Maverick a plan. Sending some of his magical energy through the circuitry in the cloak the man melded with the shadows, becoming one with them. Now one with the darkness Maverick quickly but quietly approached the two, getting behind them. Drawing his pistols he jammed them in the two soldier's backs and shouted, "Reach for the sky!"

Surprised but feeling the guns at their backs the two Dead Boys dropped their rifles and put their arms up. Broli then jogged over to the three and joined Maverick before drawing his bone club. Using the club to knock out the two soldiers he noticed one of Maverick's guns was the TW Jammer pistol and asked, "Can that even hurt humans."

Collecting the rifles Maverick replied, "Not at all. Now let's go."

Quickly the pair made it to the garage and, after showing Broli how to work the weapons, they set off to save Mustang in Maverick's TW "Sand Ranger" Combat Truck.

'Hope those guys get here soon,' Sir Ranma thought as he redirected another burst of rail-gun fire from one of the SAMAS' back at it while parrying a vibro-sword blow from the psi-stalker and barely dodging a thrust from a dog boy. As he did those three snipers shot him in the head, to no effect save temporarily blinding him. Once they retracted he had to jump out of the way as a pair of armor-piercing missiles slammed into the place where he was standing, spraying the area with shards of metal. He had already needed to refresh his Armor of Ithan spell several times and while he had already cut down many attackers but now they were working in coordination, keeping him on the defensive and preventing him from making any offensive actions. He needed to break they coordination or they would eventually ware him down, he would slip up and they would win. As if in answer to his unspoken prayer Maverick's Sand Ranger roared down the streets as Broli, in the passenger's seat fired the forward mounted TW Dual Brimstone Plasma Cannons into the mess of Dead Boys.

With a telekinetic leap Mustang launched himself into the truck's bed and drew his rifle to provide cover fire from the rear. The shock of his sudden rescue gave the trio enough time to reach a checkpoint which consisted of a barricade and some troops. As they opened fire on the machine Maverick activated an Armor of Ithan force field around the vehicle as Broli unleashed withering plasma fire on the barricade, allowing them to smash through. Once they had done that Broli and Mustang ceased fire as Maverick activated the Invisibility: Superior spell he had built into the machine, rendering them undetectable on the rocky terrain as they made their escape.

Far outside the city limits a giant figure brooded atop a shattered freeway which had gone unused since the Great Cataclysm changed the world forever. Clad in dark robes the ten foot tall man listened as the skull in his massive hand related the events that were transpiring in New Beaumont. His mouth, framed by menacing tusks pulled into a snarl of rage as the skull told him of the interlopers escape. He had planned to attack the Coalition convoy once they had acquired the item but now things had changed. 'Oh well,' the figure thought, 'at least my mock funeral curse limited the opposition.'

Without turning he spoke, his voice cold and heavy, said, "Freddy, Hannibal go now. Retrieve the item and kill all who get in your way."

Two shadowy figures replied in whispery, malevolent voices, "Yes my master." Then they disappeared as if merely imagined. Meanwhile the dark figure continued to wait and watch.

Author's Notes: And so the story really begins as Ranma, Maverick and Broli begin their travels together. As always tell me what you think and any ways I could improve. Also I am trying to come up with unique magic items for my character to eventually get, or for my villains to use, and I am more than willing to take suggestions. That said please describe your item and what it does, also if it is sentient what is its personality like? I can be reached by PM or by e-mail at . All contributors will receive props for used items.

Please C&C, remember no flames.


	3. Dead Run

Wild Knight

Chapter 03: Dead Run

By DarkJackel

Disclaimer: Rifts, its contents and constituent materials along with any other parts of the Palladium Megaverse are the property of Palladium Books. While my OC's were created by me they were created with the Occupational and Racial Character Classes from Palladium and as such I give them their due. Similarly I own nothing related to Ranma ½ either. I have no money but if they think this is good enough to make a book of it I would be very thankful for the opportunity.

Key:

"speech"

"_written word"_

'thought'

'_telepathy'_

After several hours of flight the TW Sand Ranger combat truck came to a stop outside the boarders of the Coalition State of Lone Star. The three had stopped on the edge of an ancient roadway that, while cracked and pitted from centuries of neglect, was still useful in keeping travelers who wanted to hide from leaving tracks. The sun had begun to dip over the horizon and the lengthening shadows gave the surrounding terrain an unreal quality to it as the White Rose squire and techno-wizard exited the vehicle. Mustang's exit was less graceful than the others. Having been bounced, jostled and banged around in the back of the vehicle throughout the escape the sorely abused white knight fell out of the back of the vehicle. "Land," the knight whispered his sore and beaten body grateful to be on something as immobile as solid earth. While he had performed his share of stunts on horseback, and he already missed his steed, he was trained and, while a good driver, Maverick was not trained in combat driving. That fact had become apparent to Mustang as he slid around the back of the truck, trying to shoot at CS air forces to keep them at bay until they became invisible. After a few seconds Mustang's bearings returned to him and, in time, his body would mend.

"You still among the living?" Maverick asked in jest. As he said this Broli had begun gathering equipment in order to begin setting up camp and the techno-wizard and white knight were quick to join him. From the lack of tent it seemed that Maverick preferred to sleep in his truck. It made sense to Mustang as a layer of molecularly bonded metal and glass would make sleeping safer in the wilderness. Mustang did not begrudge the other man this; after all he had faced a few instances where his sixth sense had been the only thing to save him from monster attacks in the night. As such it made sense that someone without that psionic ability would want some extra protection.

During their flight from New Beaumont Broli has not been able to take everything and it showed as he and Mustang began going through their gear to set up camp. As they began setting up the single tent that the squire had managed to escape with it was clear that two men would be too many so Broli said, "I am going to get dinner going." Receiving ascent he set off to begin preparing dinner.

Fishing through his truck Maverick made sure to keep an eye on his new companions. Although neither of them looked like the people he was searching for the knight, Mustang, had abilities that reminded him of a mystic knight. The mystic knights were deadly warrior-mystics who offered their services to the most evil of clients, most notably Alistair Dunscon's "True" Federation of Magic, and while it was possible that Mustang was a renegade Maverick would keep an eye on him. On the other hand Broli, who Maverick had spent a good deal of time with, seemed like an alright fellow and should prove interesting company. Now all he needed to do was to convince them to join him in travelling to the town of Bourbon, where his cousin TC and his gang would be waiting for him. If they were on the up-and-up then they could part company amicably and if they were the lead he was looking for… he'd deal with that when the time came. Finding what he was looking for the techno-wizard noticed Broli setting up a campfire and laying out foodstuffs. "You taking care of food?" he asked, curious.

In a confident tone the squilb replied, "Just wait and see," as a smirk creasing his wrinkled, golden face as he looked through his seasoning. Noticing the things in the other man's hands he asked, "What are you up to?"

"Motion sensors," Maverick replied, flashing the devices. "Even though we can take shifts watching the camp I prefer to have a little extra warning. Sets up a perimeter and transmits directly to my truck."

"Good thinking. That will make things a lot easier," Broli replied as he got the fire going before continuing, "Oh and before we forget we need to set a watch order for the night. We can take care of it during dinner but you should probably think about what shift you want."

"Alright," Maverick replied as he walked off to set up a perimeter while Broli planned what he would make for dinner.

As the other two went about their respective tasks Sir Ranma took the time to enjoy the quiet. So far this mission had been a complete disaster and while it had been enjoyable to test his skills against the Coalition he would rather his client still be alive. However, now that he had time to think about it, something his client had said when they talked had him on edge. He had said that the troubles with the Dead Boys had started when they had found a casket with a mock-up one of their members wrapped in the CS flag. As part of his mystical training he had been educated in magical lore and this reminded him of a necromantic curse he had read of during his education. It was a nasty curse that could give a weakness to your enemy depending on what is inside the casket with the mock corpse, including cause problems with a government or organization. 'That could be a problem,' Sir Ranma thought, 'at least there is a chance to make up for this. I just need to make sure these two don't get killed along the way.'

As the sun waned in the sky a pair of cloaked figures ran swiftly across the ground, tracking their prey. While their speed was far beyond what a human would be able to achieve neither was going as fast as they could, each waiting for the hateful day orb to sink beneath the horizon as they tracked their prey. Finally the sun set and the two removed turned towards each other.

"Damn took long enough," one of the figures said as he lowered the cowl of his cloak to reveal something straight out of a nightmare. His head was shaved bald and his skin was blackened with rot and pulled tight over his head to the point where it had ripped in places. His eyes were milky-white and glassy yet shown with sadistic malevolence. Rotted lips pulled back to reveal teeth stained a pinkish-yellow by poor hygiene and unspeakable acts of cannibalism. "Thing takes too long to set, eh Hannibal?"

With a thick and cultured voice that seemed at odds with the feeling of decay surrounding the pair the second figure, Hannibal, replied, "Indeed," as he removed his own hood and searched for more signs of their target's passage. Like his erstwhile comrade he possessed a physique that showed great decay. Unlike his travelling companion however Hannibal seemed to pay greater attention to his grooming. His hair was short and slicked back against his rotting flesh and his teeth did not show the same staining, showing signs of regular cleaning that left them as white as his eyes. As the pair removed their cloaks and the sight was a nightmare. Their bodies were desiccated and decayed, with skin stretched horrifically tight over withered muscle and bone and clad only in tattered pants. Upon each man's chest was a bio-comp system, nightmarishly fused to their bodies along with the injection collars around their necks, arms and legs. The tubes that fed the drug dispensers hung loosely from the emaciated frame and served as a marker to what they were.

They were murder wraiths, juicers who had sold their souls to escape death. While even the weakest person who became a juicer would achieve strength, speed, agility and endurance far beyond what an average human was capable of by injecting a series of synthetic chemicals into the body on a continual basis there was a price. The human body cannot sustain such a high level of performance perpetually and the life-span of juicers was dramatically reduced, most living an average of six years past their conversion. That combined with their status of super-soldiers meant that most juicers, those who could not detox, preferred to die in combat rather than wait for their body to self-destruct. It led to a sub-culture that valued recklessness, thrill-seeking and a callous disregard for death.

As for Hannibal he had gone into the life with a plan, become a juicer, make a fortune as a mercenary assassin, detox and retire to live the good life until he died. He had gotten financing to afford the expensive operation and had gone to the extra expense of finding a reputable cyber-doc rather than a cheaper Body-Chop shop. A couple days later Hannibal emerged, a full-fledged juicer assassin and set to work as an assassin, starting with the people who had financed his training and conversion. After that he had quickly amassed a small fortune and attempted detox and that is where things went wrong. Like many juicers he had grown addicted to the power and rush of his chemical-enhanced state and could not stand being reduced to being a "mere" mortal man again. Realizing he was doomed to die young from his addiction Hannibal despaired until he was approached by the Grim Reapers. The necromantic death cult offered him an escape from his fate. In return for his service to the cult and their ultimate master, the Horseman of Death, he would become one of the undead, immortal with both the powers of a juicer and the strength of undead. As an assassin becoming a servant of Death made sense and it was the best offer he had gotten so he accepted. To prepare himself for the transformation he had performed unspeakable acts to taint his soul as poison was slowly added to his mix of drugs until it reached a fatal dose and he was reborn. It was only after becoming a murder wraith that he learned he was bound to obey the one who made him.

Finding what he was looking for Hannibal turned to his comrade and said, "I've got them, let's move."

Seeing the other undead juicer break into a run along the tracks Freddy grinned in a feral manner as he joined the other killer. Their targets had driven fast in their quest to evade the Coalition but with a juicer's speed and the endurance of undeath they could not escape them. As he sped down the ancient roadway Freddy begin imagining how he would kill the prey he was hunting when that time finally came.

The camp had been set up and the smells from the campfire indicated that the meal would be done soon, if it wasn't already, as Maverick returned from setting up a perimeter with his motion detectors. As he approached he saw that Broli and Mustang had removed their helmets and he was finally able to get a good look at his erstwhile companions on their trip. Having seen both his size and great strength Maverick was completely unsurprised that the man was a D-Bee, though the wrinkled features of the gold skinned being belied his probable age. Seeing him approach Broli's beady eyes lighted with good humor as he said, "Maverick perfect timing I just finished the night's stew."

By comparison his comrade, and Maverick was beginning to suspect, superior, was more interested in the food than the company. 'Hopefully that means Broli is as good as advertised,' Maverick thought as he studied the knight. The man had youthful, Asian features, though he doubted Mustang was pure-breed considering his blue-grey eyes. Although the man looked like he was about Mustang's age, or a little younger the techno-wizard did not doubt his skill or the potency of his magic. Even without his magic enhancing him, the man had shown feats of incredible physical performance, suggesting he had gone through rigorous training designed to push a man beyond his ordinary limits. Maverick could guess that with his mystical abilities and combat abilities Mustang could qualify as a super-soldier. Putting aside his analysis of the pair he sat down and removed his hat-like helmet. Blinking a few times as he lost the sensory input from his magic helmet he set the device down and accepted a bowl of the stew. Steam wafted up from the bowl, bringing smells to his nose than made the man's mouth water. Taking up a fork he speared some of the meat and sliced vegetables and brought them to his mouth. Maverick's expression must have betrayed his thoughts because a self-satisfied smirk spread across Broli's lipless mouth.

"It's good," Maverick admitted, pleased that the squire could deliver on his claims, before returning to his meal.

"Of course it is," Broli said, "but every artist likes knowing his work is appreciated."

Having already had the opportunity to sample him squire's work Mustang's opinion was expressed more in consumption than in words, but Broli could tell that he was also pleased. Meanwhile the white knight took this opportunity to study the mage who had joined them during the New Beaumont debacle with a more wary eye. While he was not trained to spot undercover operatives Mustang liked to consider himself a good judge of others. The way Maverick moved showed he did not have the kind of intense combat training that Mustang had gone through or even the kind of training that squires went through. That along with the fact that he had yet to see the man work magic without channeling the energy through a techno-wizard device it stood to reason that he was a techno-wizard himself. Additionally he knew the type of truck the man drove and it wasn't something a native of Lone Star was likely to use. "So," he began, "what is an Arzno techno-wizard doing in Lone Star?"

Unfazed by the comment Maverick finished the mouthful of stew that he had been eating before answering the other man. "Just passing through, too bad the Dead Boys ruined the day."

"Yeah they can do that," Broli replied, "So where you headed now?"

"Bourbon, got some people I'm going to hook up with," Maverick said. "How about you two?"

"Heading up north," Mustang answered for the pair.

"I checked the map during our escape Mustang, Bourbon is near a port city so we can hitch a ride with Mav hear and catch a boat up to New Lazlo," Broli blurted out. Glad that they wouldn't have to walk all the way back to the city-state.

"Alright so who wants first watch?" Mustang asked, glad that they were on to talking business.

"I'll take care of it," Broli said, "Who wants last?"

"Call," Maverick said, "the dawn will give me enough light to work on a design of mine."

"Looks like I've got mid-shift then," Mustang said. While mid-shift was the hardest it was also likely to be the most dangerous, hence the most need for his skills.

The rest of the meal and the clean up was performed largely in silence as each of the three went about their respective tasks. Eventually they settled in for the night, with Broli taking watch.

Moving silently at a speed usually reserved for automobiles the pair of murder wraiths charged headlong towards their target. Even though they had killed people and consumed both the magic released at the moment of their death and their flesh the pair were eager to kill again. As they closed in on their prey neither undead juicer noticed the motion detectors as they passed. As they approached they saw no one and quickly split up, Hannibal going to check the tent while Freddy took the kill in the truck.

Swiftly reaching the vehicle Freddy wasted no time driving his rotten fist through the molecularly bonded, reinforced glass of the driver's side window. The glass, which could shrug off anything short of modern weapons without a scratch, shattered effortlessly before his mighty blow. Seeing that he had missed liquefying the head of the man inside Freddy brought his arm down and ripped the door off of its hinges, fully intending to savor the man's terror before ending his life. Instead he heard a clap of thunder as he felt a searing pain pierce his chest.

One of the good things, Maverick reflected, about light armor was being able to sleep in it. It had taken a few nights to learn how but once he had mastered it the skill had saved him on a couple of occasions. This time it had given him time to don his helmet and activate his defenses before a decayed fist had punched through his window with contemptuous ease. Taking a guess he teleported his TW Thundergun and given the attacker a lead rebuke for vandalizing his ride. The enchanted silver bullet struck the supernatural flesh of the monster with the force and power of a runaway freight train, blasting a large hole in the creature. As he saw this Maverick recognized the creature as one of those he was looking for, one of the people that had destroyed his guild.

He had been out that day; helping to showcase some devices the senior members had developed but didn't have time to market. He had returned to find the Arzno Mercenary Corps cordoning off the area around the guild. After sneaking through the perimeter Maverick had found his guild in ruin. Rushing headlong into the building he saw the bodies of his friends and colleagues he searched for his master. When he found the guild master the mortally wounded man had told him that they had been attacked by an unknown group and that this group had stolen the blueprints to a device they had sealed away because of its evil nature. He had taken a copy of the security cameras footage and one of the things he remembered was corpse-like juicers.

Eager to deal with the monster Maverick fired another shot blowing off the murder wraith's right shoulder in a spray of blood, bone and necrotic flesh. The third shot was aimed at the monster's head but he merely twitched it to the side, dodging the shot by millimeters. Effortlessly dodging another shot the monster sneered and said, "Too slow," before grabbing the techno-wizard's leg and throwing him from the truck. Maverick grunted with pain as he landed hard on the ground. Having lost his gun he looked frantically until he found it and desperately dived for the weapon. However before he could reach the revolver it was covered by a boney foot sheathed in rotted skin. Looking up Maverick could see the unloving horror smiling down at him with malice, the grievous wounds already beginning to visibly heal.

In a voice that showed he felt he possessed complete mastery of the situation Freddy reached down and said, "Now scream."

Inside the tent Broli had just finished helping Sir Ranma done his armor when both of their sixth senses started screaming at them to move. Trained to follow such warnings both knight and squire rolled out of the tent as a figure tore through with blinding speed. Coming up in combat stances the pair took in the nightmare facing them. Broli quickly whispered to his superior, "I know what that is, a murder wraith, undead juicer."

Mustang nodded in understanding. Fortunately magic was able to harm almost anything in existence. That was one of the reasons techno-wizard guns useable by non-magic-users were so expensive. Taking up his shield and activating his TW Conduit sword he readied himself to face the undead menace. Although he understood the abilities that juicers and other modified men possessed he had to fight down a wave of condescension whenever he dealt with one. Unlike warriors like mystic knights or cyber-knights modified men used technology instead of intensive training to become super-soldiers, throwing away their humanity, sanity or, in the case of juicers, their lives. Considering that it made perfect sense that some form of undead would be created from them. However Mustang did not let himself get cocky, this juicer was most likely faster, stronger, tougher and more agile than him. 'All I have on him,' he repeated to himself mentally, 'is skill and versatility and that is all I need.'

Turning to face them the murder wraith grinned in a way that exuded confidence and, in life, may have even come across as dashing. In a refined voice that seemed out of place coming from such a revolting creature it said, "Perfect, I do so enjoy a little exercise before a meal."

Underneath his helmet Mustang gave a feral smile. Although he did not advertise it monster combat against powerful creatures was a secret pleasure of his. Moreover this abomination looked like it had some skill and a challenge was the kind of thing he thrived on. With a taunting voice he shot back, "Come let me give you some indigestion then."

Hannibal simply charged and launched a knife hand at the knight, planning to pierce his armor and rip out his intestines. Mustang knocked the strike out of line with his shield and, using the momentum, spun into a decapitating strike which Hannibal quickly parried, setting the knight up for a knee which was redirected and followed with a shield bash. Back flipping away from the shield bash the two warriors watched for any openings they could exploit.

Broli chose that moment to let his presence be known by firing a tri-blast from his TW Force cannon, catching the murder wraith in the chest and burning a deep furrow in it. Almost as if it had been practiced Mustang surged forward and drove his short sword deep into the rotted flesh of his opponent. Hannibal sneered at the pair and said, "I suppose it would take the both of you to match me."

Frowning at that Mustang responded, "Broli help Maverick, I've got this."

Realizing there might be another murder wraith out their Broli replied, "Yes sir," before turning to aid their companion.

Hannibal attempted to follow but with surprising speed the knight got in front of him and said, "Oh no. Your fight is with me beast."

Before Freddy could get his hand on Maverick the techno-wizard teleported his TW Starfire pistol into his hand and shot the undead juicer in the face point-blank. The monster screamed and jumped back to get some room, which was the only thing that saved it from being struck again by a tri-blast of accelerated sub-particles from Broli's cannon. Snarling Freddy took cover behind the combat truck while delivering suppressing fire with his laser pistol, waiting for his undead regenerative powers to heal him. He had not needed to use the weapon since his transformation and the fact he now needed to only feed his rage.

On the other side of the vehicle Maverick and Broli took a moment to organize a strategy before continuing the fight. Realizing what their enemy was planning Broli told Maverick, "He's planning to regenerate before going at us again, I'll draw his fire and you go around."

"Alright, just don't mess up my truck too much," Maverick said, agreeing with the plan as he picked up his TW Thundergun and got to his feet. Nodding his readiness to the squire Maverick quietly crept around the truck as Broli gave a yell and charged out to draw fire, returning it with his cannon a couple times but mostly just drawing attention.

Reaching the turning point Maverick heard the sound of Freddy reloading his pistol and calmed himself. While a juicer's reaction time was ten times greater than a normal human their hearing was not enhanced like a crazy's was so he should still have the element of surprise. Rolling out to draw a bead Maverick felt the magic coursing through his helmet guiding his aim to put a silver bullet in the monster attacking them. The hammer dropped, igniting the gunpowder in the round and propelling it down the barrel, the magic already charged in the round.

Ducking from another shot from the large D-Bee's cannon Freddy only had a split-second to notice the bullet heading straight for him. While travelling through the air at the speed of sound, to the drug-altered perceptions of the juicer it seemed to be moving in slow motion. Deftly leaning out of the way of the bullet, taking a moment to admire the train of distorted air that followed the round, Freddy decided to get serious. Normally he would take his time in killing his prey, exulting in their terror as he took his time torturing them to death. However these worms could actually hurt him, badly given the amount of damage he had taken. It was time to quit playing and finish them.

Moving faster than his eyes could track the Freddy was in front of Maverick in an instant and delivered a crushing blow with freight-train force to the man, knocking him back. However before he could follow up with another blow he had to jump back to avoid the tri-blast from the squire. Snarling at the interruption he bolted at the other man, leaping into a viscous spin kick followed with a two-handed palm strike that seriously cracked the armor and laid the larger man on his back.

"Looks like you should have invested in some better armor boy," Freddy said, adopting a practiced gait, alternating between slow and quick, which's seemingly jerky style, was designed to disconcert his prey. A clap of thunder and sudden explosion of pain between his shoulders reminded Freddy of Maverick's presence with white hot intensity.

"Forget about me Stumbles," Maverick said in a cocky manner he didn't really feel. During the fight he had noticed that his enemy was making several mistakes and he was determined to exploit them. Chief among these weaknesses was that he wasn't fighting intelligently, instead of focusing on a single target he was retaliating against whoever struck at him last. It was a mistake because it gave them a chance to keep him distracted and wear him down. Given the murder wraith's undead regeneration being worn down wasn't as much of a worry for him but it had been compounded by something else, his sadism. The monster seemed to continually attempt to scare them, not just with his decayed appearance and aura of evil but with actions. That slowed him down, caused him to take his time when he should hurry and focus in on a single target. In the face of his power they were small benefits but Maverick planned to make the most of them.

Hannibal weaved around another sword blow as he appreciated his opponent's skill. That was one of the things that he liked about fighting knights, which this man obviously was. They were extremely well trained and it was great to show them that all of their honor and discipline was no match for training and power. In life cyber-knights had given him problems on a few of his jobs and while he was not as extreme about it as Knight Hunter Hannibal also despised knights of all strips. Before the knight in front of him could react he unleashed a flurry of punches at speeds that would make a rattlesnake green with envy.

Alerted by his sixth sense Mustang parried the blows with his shield, redirecting the motion to spin the other man and allow him to gouge a strike deep into his liver. It would have been a fatal blow had the man been alive but Mustang knew he wouldn't be so lucky. Having lived in Madhaven the white knight was wise to the undead and their ways even though he had not been educated in their lore. Even though his field of experience leaned more towards dealing with ghosts it was enough for him to know to keep up the pressure. "What's wrong I thought juicers were fast," Mustang taunted.

Hannibal cursed as he heard the insult, merely one more in a tally the knight had been continually throwing at him. He knew what the knight was trying to do. Get your enemy angry and cause the other guy to make mistakes. It was only a lifetime spent cultivating a cool and calm demeanor, a demeanor which could be just as irritating as the faceless knight's taunts, allowed him to resist the anger that the knight was seeking to promote. Setting a neutral expression on his decayed face the assassin prepared to launch his next assault.

Mustang decided to take the offensive, having finally managed to cast a superhuman speed spell, and launched himself at the juicer, who drew a laser pistol and fired several shots with the accuracy of a trained sniper. The bolts of focused light washed harmlessly over the knight and he quickly launched into a series of vicious stabs at the murder wraith.

With grace and ease Hannibal danced around the knight's deadly assaults before retaliating with a combo of punches and knife hands that impacted against Mustang's armor of Ithan, wearing it down. It had been an unpleasant surprise to find out he was facing a warrior who could use magic. While a magic-user was, with the power of Death, responsible for his own unlife he did not like fighting people who could alter the fabric of reality with just his will. Still that would not prevent him from accomplishing his mission and he had killed magic-users before so he continued his assault, not giving him a second to weave his magic.

Responding to the sudden shift in offensive momentum with the speed of someone that could sense the danger before it happened he parried the strikes with his shield and sword. Hopes of putting this monster down quickly had been dashed by the insane toughness of the undead juicer combined with his superhuman speed and not inconsiderable skill. It was obvious he had received more than merely basic military training before he underwent his conversion, what juicers called "doing the juice."

Ducking a knife hand from the murder wraith while parrying it with his shield Mustang quickly cast a magic net which bound the undead abomination. Screaming in frustration Hannibal fell to the ground and struggled to break free of his bindings. Not wasting any time Mustang came down at him and began repeatedly thrusting his sword into the tainted flesh of the creature, trying to do as much damage as possible before it broke free.

'Dammit,' Hannibal through in frustration as the net of blue-white energy wrapped around him, binding his arms and legs. He had thought that this knight would have a code of chivalry which, like that of the cyber-knights and most other knights, forbade the use of "dirty tricks" to win a fight. 'Obviously this one does not,' he thought as he desperately struggled to get free. The knight wasted no time as he ruthlessly brought his blade down on the prone wraith.

Seeing that the net would give soon Mustang was not surprised, though he had wished to kill the monster before he had broken free so he could assist the others. As the net tore apart and began to fade Mustang dodged an awkward attempt to grab him by the murder wraith Mustang gathered his telekinetic powers and leapt into the sky to gain distance from his foe while using his psionic levitation ability to gain some height between them, casting a spell all the way.

Reaching the pinnacle of his levitation Mustang stood over the undead juicer like a king upon his throne looking down at a condemned man. The monster snarled at him but before he could do anything Mustang finished his spell and, with a flourish, pointed his sword at the beast. As he did that the bolt of lightning Mustang had called came down from the cloudless sky and struck the monster. Smirking beneath the helmet Mustang let himself drop and cast an invisibility spell, it was time to kick things up a notch.

The problem with fighting juicers, Maverick ruminated, was their agility. Almost to accentuate that point the chemically-augmented undead was weaving around his shots with a casual grace that was very disturbing. He could only hope that Broli could afford to take the heat off of him for a little while as he needed to refresh his defenses and reload.

Fortunately Broli was made of sterner stuff, for he knew his armor was so damaged that if it took another blow it would be a miracle, and used Freddy's arrogance to his advantage once more. Taking up his organic-looking cannon and aiming its shell-shaped barrel at the undead juicer and loosed another bolt. The powerful triple-bolt torn from the three small barrels and flew straight and true at the creature and seared into the monster's flesh. Freddy roared in pain and twisted on his feet to launch into a charge at the meat-sack that had dared to strike him. Closing in he lashed out with a boney-clawed hand, intending to rip the man's head from his shoulders. Broli responded to the blinding assault with reflexes enhanced by his sixth sense and deftly side-stepped the attack while dropping his now-empty TW Force cannon and reached deep inside himself, to hidden reserves of strength all squilbs possessed. With his hands free he reached to his belt and brought a club out to strike the murder wraith in the face like a baseball player striking a home run. Fortunately for Broli squilbs were not just stronger than humans but had natural combat instincts which were only sharpened by training.

As the surprisingly powerful strike hit home Freddy was sent flying in a spinning arc to land on his face. Milky-white eyes narrowed in rage as he rose and turned to see what he had been hit with. "Bone! You decked me with a fucking bone club! Oh you are a dead man!"

Broli smirked beneath his helmet, unfazed by the threat that he would die if the chemically augmented monster struck him again, as he heard Freddy's reaction to his weapon. Among the denizens of Madhaven were several tribes of Haven Mutants who were willing to trade with the Order. One of the things that the Order desired were the mutant bone weapons made by the tribal shaman of the clans, bone weapons which could damage even molecularly bonded or magically enhanced materials. To further sweeten the deal these weapons they could damage the undead, even incorporeal spirits such as ghosts, an ability which was highly prized in the ghost-infested ruins of Madhaven. While it lacked the punch of his cannon it was more than could be done with empty clips.

Freddy let loose with an inhuman howl and launched himself at the squire with murder in his eyes. Broli remained undisturbed in the face of undead furry and set himself to meet the attack with steely resolve. With deft manipulations of his bone club Broli parried the hail of blows that the wraith unleashed on him before slamming the club into his jaw followed by a vicious jab into his stomach, doubling Freddy over. As he recovered Broli didn't let up, bringing the club across the man's face with a wet crack before parrying a retaliatory strike from the murder wraith.

Maverick blinked a few times to make sure he really saw what his eyes told him he just saw. 'Did he just whack that guy with a bone club, and actually hurt him?' he thought with some incredulity. Deciding that there must be something magic or supernatural relating to the bone weapon the techno-wizard filed the curiosity under "things to look into later" and set went to get something from his truck. Going over to the doorway that was torn open by Freddy's initial assault he pulled on a lever to bring the seat forward and access the rear of the vehicle. Reaching back he awkwardly gripped the large item in the back and, with a grunt of effort, hefted it out and set it down on the ground. It was a platform large enough to stand on with straps and latches to lock boots into place and a pair of silver-coated blades coming out from the front of the device. On the sides was a pair of wings, each bent so that they angled up from the main body for a couple inches before angling back down at an angle such that they didn't touch the ground. This was Maverick's back-up ride, his turbo wing-board, a flying marvel of techno-wizardry that he had modified to his specifications.

Without hesitation he stepped onto the platform of the device and strapped in with a hurried precision that reflected his familiarity with the device. Once secure he put a small amount of his magical energy into the board and ascended to survey the battlefield. He had heard the other fight but had been too preoccupied with his own battle to give it much thought. Fortunately Mustang seemed to have things well in hand, fighting the undead super-soldier with a demon's ferocity and ruthlessness. Moving on to the fight he had been engaged in he saw how Broli was fighting and was impressed with the squire's performance. That said he was fighting in armor that was practically ruined at the breastplate, he needed help before either his skill failed or luck ran out. Opening the cylinder on his pistol he expelled the empty cartridges and, drawing a speed loader prepped with rounds, reloaded the revolver. Closing the gun and putting away the loader he charged the pistol with magic and took aim.

Seeing Maverick lifting off into the air and setting up for a shot Broli decided to give him an opening. Ducking under a lightning-fast spin kick by Freddy Broli parried the follow up punch with his bone club to throw the murder wraith off balance, which he quickly recovered. However it delayed him long enough for Maverick to deliver another powerful shot into his back, staggering the monster.

Freddy snarled as his back once again exploded with pain. While fighting the larger man he had managed to mostly regenerate but now that damn techno-wizard was shooting him with his hand-cannon again. Turning to face the man he coiled his legs in preparation to leap up and tear the man off of his platform. Broli attempted to block him but to the murder wraith's eyes he may as well have been moving in molasses. Muscles, only strengthened by his undeath, loosed their strength and propelled him like a bullet towards his target as he unleashed an inhuman roar.

Maverick saw the enemy hurtling at him and pulled back on his platform to give distance and avoid the strike. As Freddy came up on him Maverick shot him in the chest, the thunderous report of his gun sounding like sweet music as he saw the murder wraith go flying back from him. Glancing down at Broli he smirked and said, "Thanks for the set up."

"No prob," Broli said, using the banter to buoy his morale.

Hannibal worked hard to contain his frustration as he tried to strike an opponent he could not see. 'If only I had a multi-optics band,' he thought angrily, 'or at least some rain.' Unfortunately for Hannibal the nature of his transformation had left him a slave to the one who created him and his master felt little need to invest in such things. However his drug-enhanced senses had allowed him to score a few blows against his invisible enemy.

'Invisibility,' Mustang noted with satisfaction, 'is an incredibly useful thing.' For all of their vaunted speed and agility, for all their martial training they couldn't see an invisible man on their own. Of course it had been a gamble that undeath had not granted him such power but it seemed to have paid out. It also helped that he had known that he was facing a juicer. 'Have to thank Broli for that,' he thought as he cut his enemy across the back before jumping back to avoid the retaliatory strike. Touching down in a crouch Mustang launched himself at the murder wraith to bash him with the shield, driving it under him and lifting the monster on his shield before hurling him to the ground and stabbing him through the chest.

Even as he registered the continuing damage against him Hannibal used the opportunity to seize hold of him with one hand while using the other to grab a handful of earth and smear it across the knight's armor. Using his superior strength the murder wraith hurled the other man to the ground and rose to his feet. To his delight he saw that the smeared earth had remained visible, allowing him to see his enemy again. "Now it's payback time," Hannibal said before launching forward.

'Damn I got too cocky,' Mustang thought as he realized what had happened. While he firmly believed that his self-confidence was a benefit Mustang did admit that sometimes it caused him to make mistakes. He scrambled to parry a series of lightning-fast punches and quickly launched himself into a flip over the murder wraith to avoid a powerful kick. Landing Mustang did not hesitate to bash the man with his shield to gain some distance and turn to face him.

The two stared each other down for several moments searching for weaknesses in their stance which could be exploited for their benefit. Overhead the sky rumbled ominously seeming to anticipate the conclusion of this duel as a sudden storm came in. At some signal known only to the pair they launched at each other.

Mustang unleashed a flurry of stabbing strikes with his TW Conduit sword only to have Hannibal dance around the blade with almost insulting grace. For his part Mustang had become an unbreakable wall as blows rained upon him like a monsoon only to be turned away by his skillful parries. Knowing that in a match of pure strength he would lose Mustang freely gave ground and sidestepped attacks when he could. Mustang's powerful blade dug deep trenches through the putrid flesh of the murder wraith while powerful blows struck against Mustang's dwindling barrier until he felt it break.

Suddenly Hannibal grabbed onto Mustang's upper arm and began to crush the armor. Eventually it gave with a crushing sound, exposing Mustang's mortal flesh to the unnatural might of his adversary. With a dark sneer of triumph Hannibal ripped off Mustang's sword arm and cast it aside like refuse.

It took all of his not inconsiderable discipline to avoid screaming in agony but Mustang endured his pain in silence and used it to heighten his focus. Instead he unleashed a bolt of magical energy from his remaining hand into Hannibal's desiccated mid-section. Not relenting in the slightest the white knight continued to bombard the murder wraith with magical energy until there was nothing but charred ashes remaining.

With an angry snarl Freddy continued to try to kill the annoying pieces of trash which were still chipping away at him. Even though he was still dodging more shots than not but those that hit were doing tremendous damage. When he turned to attack the techno-wizard the D-Bee shot him in the back with an ice shooting pistol while remaining ready to parry any attacks with his freaking bone club. As it was he couldn't get one of them out of the air and the other was simply refusing to die. Worst of all they simply were not afraid of him. Even before his transformation into a murder wraith, even before he became a juicer Freddy loved to terrorize others. It had served him well in his youth and when backed up by a juicer's power became an art form. Undeath had only enhanced his ability to cause terror and the fact these warriors were so resolute before him was like an insult to the monster.

Flying above the battlefield with practiced skill, enhanced with a special bond that techno-wizards shared with wing boards, Maverick quickly reloaded his gun, smiling with some satisfaction as the spent shell casings bounced off of the murder wraith's head. 'Still got it,' the young man thought as he closed his gun with a satisfying click. He was going to need to prep some more bullets after this fight but if things went well it would be well worth it. Gliding around to get back to the fight he waited to come into range before taking careful aim.

Seeing another opportunity to set up their enemy Broli fired another three-round burst from the TW Ice Shard pistol that he had drawn during a break in the melee. The razor-sharp shards of magical ice pierced the undead flesh of the murder wraith and embedded themselves in his side. However this time Freddy merely unleashed a spin-kick in his direction that was fast enough to allow him to twist out of the way of Maverick's bullet. Broli counted the bursts he had fired and decided to switch over to single fire. It didn't have the punch of a burst but with the speeds and ranges involved in this fight, combined with the fact he couldn't afford to be hit again, Broli knew reloading would be too risky. Without warning all three combatants heard the shrieking, cracking sound of molecularly-bonded metal and ceramics failing followed soon by the wet-tearing sound of flesh ripping and all three knew. The change that would determine the outcome of this battle had come.

Broli looked over to see his superior, his lord with one arm torn off and felt shame settle over him. As a squire he was supposed to support his knight and while that primarily meant as a technical officer Broli fully intended to prove his worth in battle as well. It was with a sense of pride that he noticed his knight made no noise in the face of, what was surely, great pain. He resolved to quickly finish off the beast before him and go to Sir Ranma's aid quickly.

Freddy smiled at the sound of limb ripping, a sound very familiar to the cannibalistic beast. Things had finally turned and now Hannibal and he could finish these insects and they could return in triumph. Turning he was shocked to see that, instead of being the beginning of his partner pulling the other man apart the one armed knight was unleashing an unrelenting torrent of lethal energy at the other murder wraith. Soon nothing was left but charred meat and Freddy decided that retreat would be the best course of action so he fled at a speed that only the man on wing-board could beat.

Wracked with pain and exhausted from his hasty barrage of magical energy Mustang found the smell of charred meat coming from his opponent a satisfying change from the cloying smell of decay that had come from the monster before. It smelled of victory. Almost as if it had been waiting for the fight to finish rain began to fall from the sky, cleaning the air of the dead monster's stink. His vision blurred slightly as the torment from his lost limb and the blood draining from his body the knight turned to look at the other fight and he was not entirely pleased to see the other murder wraith fleeing. "Feh coward," he said with contempt as he fell to his knees before the blackness took him.

As he saw the knight collapse Maverick quickly took charge of the situation. "Broli, disassemble the camp quickly, I'm going to get him into the back of the truck."

"He needs immediate medical treatment," Broli argued, unsure what the techno-wizard was planning.

"He needs more than we can provide," Maverick argued back, "Bourbon has a doctor and he might be able to both save his life and reattach the arm."

"Alright," Broli acquiesced, "But let me take care of him. I've got some first aid training."

"Alright," Maverick agreed and the two set to their given tasks.

Reaching his liege-lord Broli looked at the grievous wound upon his lord. It didn't look good as the bone had splintered and the flesh was torn and ripped unevenly. Knowing what he needed to do the squire searched Ranma's equipment belt until he found what he was looking for. It was a small flask marked with a red cross for clear identification. Every knight and squire was issued a healing potion as part of their standard equipment along with pieces of the white rose, which possessed magical healing abilities. Carefully he removed the other man's helmet in order to administer the potion and he didn't like what he saw. Sir Ranma's face was slightly pale and sweat beaded his brow. Pain was clear on his face even though he had lost consciousness. Uncapping the potion Broli massaged Ranma's throat as he poured it in to ensure the knight swallowed it. As he did that Broli saw the ragged tissue begin to knit together and the pulped flesh come together. It wasn't much but given the horrific injury Sir Ranma had sustained it made sense that it would take more for him to be fixed. Once that was done Broli began working to staunch the wound to stop the bleeding before picking him up and moving him to the back seat of the truck. Once he did that he retrieved the arm and bandaged it so that it wouldn't bleed out before putting it in a cooler in the back of the truck.

As Broli was taking care of his superior Maverick began quickly disassembled the campsite and, without regard for order as speed was imperative, loaded it into the back his truck with his wing board. Once he lashed everything down so it wouldn't fly free during high speed driving he hopped into the driver's side next to Broli and buckled in. "Let's roll," he said as he slammed on the accelerator, hitting speeds of a hundred miles per hour in his hurry.

As they entered the town of Bourbon Broli was not impressed by what he saw. Mostly wooden housing with a few brick structures they didn't even have a wall to defend the city from attack. Traveling at much slower speed due to being inside a city he could see wood and brick buildings no taller than three stories at the most; in fact the town side gave their population as only two hundred and forty eight.

Coming to their destination Maverick slowed the truck and Broli took Ranma out of the vehicle along with his arm. It was a one-story brick building with a sign proudly proclaiming it a hospital, though Broli suspected it was little more than a one or two-person operated clinic. Maverick banged on the door as Broli cradled him gravely injured knight in his arms. After a seemingly unnecessarily long time a partially bald middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses and carrying a hand-held lantern came to the door in answer to their banging. Whatever he was going to ask died a sudden death when he saw the unarmed knight in Broli's arms, looking pitifully small when held by the large man.

"Quickly bring him inside," the man ordered as he began leading into the building. Although there was lighting set up along the walls they were darkened causing the pair to suspect that the town shut off power at nights. Seeing that did little to raise their hopes for their ally's well-being as they strode across the creaky wooden floor. However as they were lead into the operating room they were surprised to find high-tech medical equipment including a bed with equipment for micro-surgery.

"Take off his armor and lay him on the bed with the arm while I rev up the genny," the doctor commanded with an authoritative voice as he went to bring up the diesel generator which served as the back-up for his hospital. With a grunt of effort that could be heard in the operating room the generator revved to life with a loud roar. As that happened, the lights in the operating room snapped on and the surgical bed began to power up, ready to work on patients once more.

Walking into the room the doctor rubbed his sleeve against his forehead and began washing his hands for the operation while saying, "Ya'll can leave now, he's in good hands."

Seeing the opportunity to cut out for his own meeting Maverick quickly said, "You should take the chance to fix up your and Mustang's armor. After all you never know when the next crisis will come."

"Yeah," Broli said in a distracted manner as he gathered up his knight's armor and prepared to head out with Maverick to attend their business, both feeling there would be little sleep this night.

Deep within the shadowed depths of his personal tent the ogre necromancer Warlord Cid sat upon a throne made from skulls with soft black velvet back and cushion as he listened to the report from Freddy. Clad, as he preferred, in armor of black leather and bone plate from supernatural beasts with a necklace of goblin skulls around his neck he cast an image of savage power. His dark eyes, well accustomed to handling the gloom and darkness that he preferred were narrowed as he heard of the attack. The more the undead spoke the more Cid had to resist the urge to crush the skull goblet in his hand as his slave finished talking. As he fell silent a death-like silence overtook the chamber as, behind the necromancer, an enormous figure fidgeted with malicious intent as his master's angry visage shown in what little anemic light cast by dim torches. "And so," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "you ran. You ran from two men and an unconscious cripple. You, who have been blessed by the Horseman of Death, fled like a frightened coward just because Hannibal WAS DESTROYED!"

Attempting to forestall his master's fury Freddy frantically stuttered, "B-but the other two had already inflicted a great deal of damage on me, if he had been play'n possum and killed us both then who would inform you my lord."

Taking a moment to calm himself by draining the repurposed human skull of its blood-flavored wine Cid passed the vessel to a waiting slave before rising from his throne. At ten feet tall, not including the wild main of reverse-spiked black hair, even the chemically enhanced undead before him came up short even when not kneeling. From beneath his sloping brow the small eyes that had just recently burned hot with anger now shown with a gaze that was cold and calculating as he stared down at the killer prostrate before him. After waiting long enough that he knew the monster would begin to hope for forgiveness Cid spoke, his voice dangerously soft.

"So you did it all for me."

Head snapping up Freddy looked at his master with a hopeful expression and said, "Yes my master it was so you would be ready."

"So I would be ready," he started, his lips secretly moving with an incantation under his breath as he finished, "Yet you forgot the most important thing, where they ran to."

With that Cid completed his spell and Freddy's nerves, all dead since his transformation, exploded in overwhelming agony. The spell had come upon him without warning so he had been unable to attempt to resist it or attempt to temporarily break Cid's control, which would give him the chance to kill his master and gain freedom from his bondage. Instead he fell to the ground screaming in all consuming torment, helpless before the death wizard's power.

"Fortunately I do not have to rely on you to find them," Cid derided as he walked over to a table on which were several maps and a human skull that he had enchanted with his necromancy. Taking the skull up in his meaty hand he held it up and said, "Skull of Knowledge where are the ones I seek."

"In a hospital… in the village of Bourbon is the one you seek, healing from the battle," the skull said in a raspy voice as dry as sand.

"Bourbon," he said as he put down the skull and searched for it on his maps. Finding one that included the small village he began to plot his course of action. "Marcus," he called to the witch who had been silently watching the proceedings.

"Yes master," the witch Marcus said clad in the heavy black robes and skull mask that the Grim Reapers wore. Unlike the other magic-users in Cid's forces Marcus did not acquire his magic from study or training. Instead he practiced witchcraft, the "style" of selling your soul to a powerful supernatural evil being for immense power by forming one of three different pacts with the being. Marcus had the strongest and most desirable of the pacts, the pact of union. As such his spirit was merged with a tiny fragment of his master, the Horseman of Death, giving him a taste of the raw power of the supernatural. However because their power was completely dependent on their patron training and experience could not increase their powers.

"Rally the troops and load the zombies we move at once," Warlord Cid commanded as he turned to face the other man, seeing the cruel smile that was on both Marcus' face and that of his vulture demon familiar. Considering that he had been willing to become little more than a slave for power Warlord Cid suspected getting to command an army was something that he greatly enjoyed.

"Yes my lord," the dark mage said with a small bow before leaving the tent.

As the curtain of flayed human skin closed behind him the warlord began planning his strategy as he savored Freddy's agonized screams. If everything went as planned he could claim both the artifact and be able to claim the title of Warmaster from another of his patron lord's warlords. It was not his ultimate goal but for the war-like D-Bee death mage it would be a worthy acknowledgement of his power. Deciding that he would like to be alone he turned to the giant shadowy figure behind his throne and said, "Jason, take that coward and leave me."

Groaning in acknowledgement the massive figure, almost twelve feet tall, moved into the weak light revealing his third murder wraith, Jason. Unlike Freddy and Hannibal he had been a titan juicer, a variant of the juicer process that traded speed and reflexes for supernatural strength and extreme toughness. Not to say there were not faster or more coordinated than average humans but not as much as standard juicers. They were also much larger, the process which reinforced their skeletons causing a growth spurt similar to that experienced during adolescence. Cid took no offense in the other being's silence, understanding that Jason was mute, and took some enjoyment that, like death itself, his strongest minion was silent.

Taking his fellow murder wraith up with his large hand the giant human strode out of the tent at a casual speed, his heavy steps thundering in the silence as he left, the slave trailing behind him having left the skull-goblet and decanter of blood-infected wine behind for his master. Now alone the warlord finished working out his plan to sacrifice this town with great anticipation. It had been too long since he had gone into battle. Cid hoped that he would be able to find the man who killed Hannibal, not to avenge the weakling but to avenge the insult paid by killing one of his murder wraiths.

In the hospital, as the doctor worked to reattach Sir Ranma's arm, the knight had regained consciousness, thanks to a local anesthesia. However instead of waking the white knight felt that something within him had changed and sunk into meditation.

Author's Notes: This chapter is a little shorter than I had planned, sorry but it was just at a good stop point.

An interesting note is that ALL members of the Order of the White Rose are, by their membership in the Order, guilty of treason against the Eternal Order of the Mystic Knights, the largest mercenary force in North America. That is why if they are captured they will be tortured without mercy and killed like dogs, and the Order of the White Rose members know it. Personally I consider that quiet impressive.

Now one of my main villains makes his move. Will Ranma recover in time to aid Maverick and Broli or will Cid end his journey here? There was a good reason for me to choose to let Sir Ranma be wounded here. Until now most of the villains have not been able to significantly hurt him even if they hit. The change in that dynamic is one of my reasons but there are others. I wonder if anyone could guess what the other is.

One thing I am working on is custom magic items and weapons for my main characters. If anyone has any suggestions I would be more than happy to hear them out.

Please review, remember that commentary and speculation help to fuel my creativity so please review, PM and/or comment at , my e-mail address.


	4. Night of the Living Dead

Wild Knight

Chapter 04: Night of the Living Dead

By DarkJackel

Disclaimer: Rifts, its contents and constituent materials along with any other parts of the Palladium Megaverse are the property of Palladium Books. While my OC's were created by me they were created with the Occupational and Racial Character Classes from Palladium and as such I give them their due. Similarly I own nothing related to Ranma ½ either. I have no money but if they think this is good enough to make a book of it I would be very thankful for the opportunity.

Key:

"speech"

"_written word"_

'thought'

'_telepathy'_

After leaving their comrade with the doctor Broli and Maverick stepped out into the night of the small town with a somber atmosphere that matched the gloom. Lanterns cast light onto the main streets which bled slightly into the abyssal darkness. To the pair it seemed to fit the situation well. Reaching the truck the pair drove in silence to a small bar that offered an upstairs inn as well. Parking in front of the building the two got out and walked into the building. Being to the east of Lone Star and the Pecos Empire the inn lacked the style that was prevalent there and in the New West. Turning to Broli Maverick said, "Let's try and get rooms close to each other, just in case Cap'n Cadaver comes back."

Responding to the statement with a weak smile flitting across his lipless mouth Broli said, "Makes sense. All things considered we got lucky and I wouldn't be surprised if he brought friends. If only I could recharge the magic energy clips for my gun."

Perking up, "Oh I can take care of that. Since I use the clip model of pistol figured it would be good to bring a magic energy charger with me. Once we get our rooms just swing by with your empties and I'll hook you up."

"Thanks," Broli said, glad that he wouldn't have to pay the almost criminal price of recharging his clips, especially since Sir Ranma was in no position to do so himself. While powerful and able to harm things that mundane weapons couldn't even touch the cost to recharge the magic energy clips was ten times the normal recharge cost and Broli was getting low.

Reaching the desk for the inn the pair rang the bell and waited for service. A young attendant walked up to the desk, looking like she was not particularly pleased to be pulling the night shift. Turning to the two customers she put on a practiced smile and said, "How may I help you?"

Seeing that Maverick was distracted Broli took the initiative and responded saying, "Yes we need a couple of rooms, close to each other if you could."

"Alright just a moment sir," the attendant said, turning to fulfill the order. As she did that the squilb squire resisted the urge to drum his fingers. While not an impatient man by nature Broli wanted to get his armor fixed or, better yet, replaced in case the worst did happen. Taking in the surroundings he noticed a rowdy group of individuals taking up a pair of tables in the corner of the rustic establishment. Near the group was an apparently refurbished juke box was blaring rock music, obviously the work of the individuals at the tables.

"Hey Broli, here is your room keys," Maverick said, breaking the man from his reverie as he handed over the keys. Checking the room number he picked up his bags and walked towards the stairs that would take them to the rooms upstairs. Casting one last glance around the bar Broli passed the two stuffed alligators which flanked the stairs and ascended. Reaching the second floor Broli took some pleasure in hearing a marked decrease in the noise from the crowd downstairs. 'Well that is one worry gone,' he thought gratefully.

"Not bad," Maverick commented as he followed up behind his large companion and appreciating the simple, homey décor the hotel floor possessed. Heading to his room Maverick asked, "Hey Broli you turning in for the night?"

"Naw I'm going to head out and try to get my armor fixed, you?"

"I'm probably get some rest after settling in, bring your clips in before heading out and I'll take care of them," Maverick said as he entered his own room. It was a fairly basic affair, though nicer than the dive he was in before. Walking up to the dresser he removed his hat-shaped TW Quick-Draw helmet and ran his hand through his short-cut brown hair to get rid of the case of hat-hair the device caused. Rubbing his eyes the young techno-wizard fought down his exasperation. He had recognized TC and the rest of her gang celebrating below. That could only mean they had decided to rob somebody and were celebrating a score, which meant they would be in no shape to do much of anything tomorrow.

"Well at least they are here," the man sighed as he set up his magic energy clip recharger.

Back at the hospital the doctor had been forced to replace the upper arm bone in his young patient with a molecularly bonded ceramic copy. Now was the arduous task of reconnecting the nerves and blood vessels to the torn limb so that it could be used again. Taking a moment to wipe the sweat from him his brow the middle-aged man blinked to readjust his vision from staring too long into his micro-surgical equipment. Taking a swig of some coffee he had recently brewed he hoped that whatever had injured the young man on the table. After a brief rest the man bent over his equipment again and continued with his surgery.

Having dropped off his magic energy clips for a recharge with Maverick the squire set out carrying a large sack which contained his ruined suit of armor. He would need to get it replaced before they were attacked again, which Broli did not doubt for an instant. Schooled in undead lore he was sure that the surviving murder wraith of the pair that had attacked them had a master who would not be pleased that one of his slaves was destroyed. Considering that his armor was not fit to see combat again and he had to either get it fixed or replace it. Walking down the illuminated streets of the small town Broli noticed a lot of businesses which catered to travelers, most likely bound for a nearby port or port-city near the Mississippi River. Looking at the signs Broli noticed one that advertised arms and armor and he went in.

Set in a solidly-built red-brick building the establishment gave the impression of brisk business and although the weapons and armor offered were fairly common they looked to be in good shape. Passing through racks of Northern Gun and Wilk's manufactured weapons Broli headed to the front counter to get his armor examined. He was greeted at the front by a hairless blue D-Bee with large, round eyes bugging out of his head and a small, clawed finger-like mandible on each side of his lipless mouth, a fingertooth carpetbagger who tipped his derby hat in acknowledgement. "Good evening fine sir, what can I do you for?"

"I need to see if my armor can get repaired and, if not, I'll need a new suit," Broli said to the man as he set his sack on the table to remove his damaged breastplate. Broken and caved there seemed little hope for the trusty light armor that had served him since joining the Order of the White Rose but Broli held out some hope. Fortunately the armor crafted by the Order could be repaired by mundane means, assuming there wasn't something that crippled the suit.

"Well that is some nasty damage you got there," the proprietor said as he examined the damaged suit of armor. "Let me take a look at this under the scope and see if this is salvageable. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes. While you wait why don't you check out some of our merchandise?"

"Thank you I will," Broli said as the man took the breastplate into the back where he could put it under an electron microscope to check the molecular structure for something that would render the suit useless. As he left Broli walked over to one of the display cases which proudly presented several different types of plasma cannons with price tags set up below them. While not in the market for a new gun it was always nice to check if a new weapon had entered the market so he could learn about it before having to encounter it in combat, where the price of education could be far higher. Having reviewed the various cannons and not seeing a weapon he wasn't familiar with Broli turned towards a rack of vibro-weapons and, seeing a vibro-glaive that looked interesting, picked it up.

With mounting anger Warlord Cid tightened his grip on his corrupt Executioner's Blade as reports of delays kept flowing in. The brodkil and corrupt had taken the news on Freddy and Hannibal's deployment as permission to knock off for the night. Now the corrupt were off seeking to amuse themselves with torture and violence while the brodkil were fighting and drinking as usual. The way things were going night would pass and he would miss his chance. "MARCUS," Cid yelled out.

"Yes warlord," the witch of Death said as he appeared beside the leader of their cell.

"We are encountering too many delays, look into the future and see if our prey will escape."

Closing his eyes Marcus drew upon the psychic powers granted to him by his union with the Horseman of Death and cast his mind into the future. As that happened Cid, never the most patient of men resisted the desire to pace at the delay, he wanted to march on the town and take the item without any further delays. Everyone in the town would, naturally, have to die to maintain operational secrecy and the prospect of such mass sacrifice to the leader of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse excited the ogre necromancer greatly. He would have to remember to discipline his troops for causing these delays.

Opening his eyes Marcus reported his vision saying, "The enemy is bound for the day and shall not be able to leave quickly. However we should not wait to trap them my lord."

Considering the report of his witch's clairvoyant vision Cid considered his options. If he could trap his prey in the town until dusk then he could strike and bring the full force of his army to bear with ensuring the maximum operating time for his murder wraiths. While the limitation to night-time operations with the undead juicers was annoying it was something that the former Grim Reaper cult-leader had grown used to. Commanding armies, on the other hand, was still a somewhat new experience having joined the Covenant only two years ago, after a failed plot to attempt and overthrow the Grim Reaper's master, Aramis Knight. His cell, a relatively new one, had been wiped out in a sudden attack and Cid had been forced to flee for his life with his own murder wraiths. He had been living on the lamb, seeking to sell his knowledge to another cult while gathering followers for his own eventual revenge when he had been recruited into the Covenant. Coming to a decision he issued his commands, "Gather the troops, we shall perform recon and prepare for the night's assault."

"Yes my lord," Marcus said before walking off.

An hour later the zombies were loaded onto a pair of buses, the slaves were loaded and the other forces were gathered. Seated upon a throne borne by eight slaves Warlord Cid Sanchez thrust his bio-wizardry axe and commanded, "MARCH!" With that the army set off for Bourbon with evil intent.

Back at the shop the store vendor had returned to find Broli testing out a vibro-vogue from the rack. Seeing that the man was skilled with the weapon, a trait not seen in many mercs, made the D-Bee smile. "Ya like that weapon there eh," he said, drawing Broli out of his tests.

"It's a fine blade; do you have the same thing with silver-plating?" Broli asked, putting the vibro-vogue up as he spoke.

"Always good so close to vampire territory but I'm afraid there aren't enough pole arm customers to justify it. I can get that one plated for you by morning if you want, it'll cost ya extra though," the shopkeeper said, hoping the dog would bite.

Weighing the value of having another weapon he was skilled in versus the cost Broli made his choice, "Yeah I will. Now what about my armor?"

"That's not so good," the fingertooth carpetbagger said with a sigh. "The armor has microscopic cracks throughout its structure, its dead friend."

"I see," Broli said, slightly disappointed. Now, even if the plates were fixed of replaced the suit wouldn't hold together, it was just a walking deathtrap. 'At least it wasn't a deathtrap at the beginning,' Broli thought ruefully, unlike a Cheapwell suit.'

'On the other hand this could be an opportunity to step up,' Broli thought, his spirits lifting. While he did like the freedom of movement offered by his armor Broli had always wanted to save up for a suit with better protection and that was environmentally sealed. However, while average in height for his species, squilbs were tall and at eight feet Broli would need a new suit of armor modified to fit his massive frame. Looking at the displays of armor his eyes stopped at a suit of armor that looked like a modern take of a medieval suit of armor. Turning to the vendor he said, "I'll take the suit of Crusader armor, in red if possible, assuming that it can be modified to fit me of course."

"It shouldn't be too much of a problem sir," the shopkeeper replied, pleased at the choice, "Let me ring you up and then we will get right to it."

Outside of the town of Bourbon, in one of the small family farms that lived near the town and sold their produce at the markets in Bourbon. Inside the house the family had gone to sleep after another hard day of work save for one person. Out in the shed Tom, the youngest son of the family, was working on a tractor that had given out this morning. He would have gotten to the labor sooner but his apprenticeship at a mechanics shop in town had prevented him and while his pa was proud that one of his four sons was learning to work on robots and the like but that didn't mean Tom wouldn't have to help the family out. It didn't really bother the young man as he enjoyed working with machines and had little need for sleep.

Finishing up his work on the engine the young man wiped the sweat from his brow, taking a moment to admire the fruits of his labor. It was then that he heard some rustling which caused him to turn around in surprise. While the microwave fence they had recently installed would keep out most of the local creatures that might come around every so often something dangerous would get in. Picking up the ion rifle he had brought Tom began checking around the shed. Slowly making his way around so as not to alert whatever might be there he began heading in the direction of the noise to investigate.

As he advanced around the back he saw nothing, which did little to calm his nerves. "Is anyone there?" Tom asked as he peeked around the corner. Suddenly the lights died, casting the interior of the room into darkness. Guided by the wan moonlight cast by the pale harvest moon, which lent an unreal, ghostly quality, Tom fled the shed and whatever might have been there. His flight into the ghostly night was heightened as a predatory snarl erupted behind him. Hearing the sounds of something running along the top of the tractor Tom leapt for the exit while spinning around to fire a wild burst of ion fire in the direction of the sound before falling to the ground. Scrambling to his feet from the landing Tom began to bring up his rifle again when a black blur launched at him from the shadows. Before the rifle could be brought to bear it was swatted out of Tom's hands with an incredibly strong backhand and he was again hurled to the ground.

Looking up Tom could finally see the form of his attacker. Clad in leather straps and spiked black armor with large pauldrons little could be seen to indicate what this humanoid was, though the scaly hands ending in wicked talons ruled out him ever being human. Even his helmet concealed all of his features, saving for the two glowing orbs where his eyes should have been. Around the neck of the black-clad monster was a fetish necklace made of human fingers, eyes and ears, held together by strings of sinew, adding to the feeling of unnatural terror the beast exuded. Seeing the hunched figure stalking towards him Tom knew he was going to die. Suddenly the monster's claws lashed out and Tom felt agony erupt into his chest and saw the beast's hand retract clutching his beating heart. As the darkness closed in on him he heard the creature chuckle as he crushed the organ in his hand saying in a guttural voice, "Oops."

Savoring the feeling of the dead man's energy as he consumed it the corrupt flicked the blood and gore from his hand before signaling to his superior. Looking down at the cooling corpse at his feet some distant part of the creature remembered that he had once been as weak and human as the thing at his feet. Then had come the being the corrupt call The Liberator who had taken his weakness and given him strength along with the clarity of thought to properly revel in destruction and bloodshed and he had been reborn. Drawn from his reverie by his superior, the murder wraith Freddy, approaching him along with another corrupt who was assigned to this hunting team the monster waited for orders.

"Nice work," Freddy said glancing at the corpse. While he didn't know why the order had come to clean out the farms surrounding Bourbon he wasn't going to make a fuss over it. Not only was it fun but he and some of the boys could stand to get some food before the killing began in earnest.

Turning to the farm house Freddy drew his pistol and snapped off a quick shot, obliterating the barking dog on the porch. Looking back at the two corrupt that had come with him he said, "Alright boys you know the orders. Let's have some fun."

Feeling like a team of mining cyborgs were excavating the inside of her skull TC, leader of the Desert Raiders struggled to open her bleary eyes, which protested as burning light seared through the openings. Wincing at the brightness she began massaging her aching skull in hopes that the pain would go away. Recovering somewhat TC crawled out of bed and, using the small coffee pot in her room, began brewing some strong coffee as she headed for the shower. Washing off the grim of the evening, 'Or was it morning?' the woman thought as she began to remember what she had to do today.

"Oh yeah I gotta meet my cousin today," she said as she turned off the water and reached for a towel. When her younger cousin had come to her asking for help in finding out who had attacked his guild TC had agreed without any real hesitation and, to be honest, didn't mind helping him out. If anything this hunt was expanding their hunting grounds and providing a break from the stress of the vampire-hunting operations they had been taking for the AMC lately. One of the things TC had decided on when she formed the gang was that they would not raid Arzno itself. That meant they had to range further out into the New West, often as far as the Baronys in search of plunder or on vampire hunting missions for the AMC but at least at home they didn't have to worry about the authorities looking for them. It also gave them an extensive knowledge of the terrain beyond the city-states boarders which was why her cousin had asked for their help in the first place.

As she finished dressing TC heard a knock at her door. Walking over she opened the door to see her cousin standing there, clad in his usual worn WWII bomber jacket and looking like wide awake. For a moment TC cursed his luck, not only was he brilliant but a natural early riser, a trait TC lacked on her best days. Putting her feelings aside and a sardonic grin on her face, while hoping she didn't look as bad as she felt, TC greeted him saying, "Morn'n Benny."

At the use of his childhood nickname Maverick deflated slightly and said, "How many times have I told you not to call me that TC?"

"Don't remember, stopped counting long ago," she replied as she passed him and headed down the hall. "You coming?"

Sighing in defeat Benjamin Carlton, or Maverick as he preferred to be called, stuffed his hands into his cargo pants and trailed after his older cousin muttering, "Yeah yeah hold yer horses."

Having followed his cousin to the lower floor Maverick joined her at a table and ordered some breakfast. Taking a slug of the strongest coffee they had TC looked over at her cousin and dove straight in. "Saw yer new company, what gives?"

Maverick simply waved off the comment saying, "Just some guys I ran into in New Beaumont, we had to shoot our way out and just happened to come together. However something interesting happened last night, I think I've got a lead."

Perking up TC looked over at him intently asking, "What happened?"

"At night we were attacked by some of the guys who attacked the guild hit us in the night, it was those odd juicers. Apparently they are some kind of undead juicers called murder wraiths."

"Did you learn anything?" TC asked excited, and glad that her little cousin had survived the encounter, after all Aunt Mary had made clear what would happen if her son got himself killed. Since their parents jointly owned a robotics garage the two had basically grew up together. Whereas her cousin had shown an aptitude for magic and engineering she had learned much about combat from the mercs who got their equipment fixed there and had set up her own gang of mercenaries and bandits. That said she was still a little scared of what her aunt could do when she lost her temper.

At that point their meals had arrived and Maverick speared some eggs with his fork to eat before answering, "Unfortunately they were too dangerous to risk taking alive and Mustang, one of the guy's I was with…"

"Wait there was another guy?" TC asked.

"Yeah, he's getting an arm reattached, long story. Anyhoo he went nuts when one of the two ripped an arm off him, not that he hadn't been doing a fair job disassembling the thing already. How's yours by the way?"

Stopping with a forkful of pancakes midway between plate and mouth TC replied, "Pretty good. So what happened to the remaining wraith?"

"He decided to book when his partner bought it and fled. Broli, the guy you saw with me, was in no shape to pursue and I knew I had probably used up my luck for the next week with that fight. They were sloppy, obviously didn't think we were a threat and couldn't adjust to how they fought back when conventional weapons could kill them," sighing he ate some more before finishing, "We got lucky this time, next time he'll be ready."

"So you're planning on following those two?" TC asked, concerned for his safety.

"I'm thinking about it. My guess is that these two were looking for something and this guy will come back, possibly with his master or someone else I could get some answers from. Besides I'm curious about Mustang and Broli, a bit too secretive if you feel me," Maverick said.

Nodding as she chewed TC began considering what they would do next. "I'll back you up if you need it but I think we should make sure the guys are ready for nightfall, if I were that wraith's master I would want to follow up with a major assault as soon as possible while you're still off-balance and wounded."

Maverick nodded; having an eerie feeling his cousin was right.

"So," TC said, breaking the mood, "any progress on cracking the hat."

Scowling Maverick said, "No I have been trying to figure out how my Avester made it or how to make something more practical." While it was true that Maverick greatly respected his fallen mentor and was willing to use the devices he had made, he still thought a metal cowboy hat looked a little goofy. However the secrets to creating an targeting system like it had continued to elude the young techno-wizard. The pair then finished their meals in peace, chatting about more mundane issues before going and preparing for the coming day.

It was midday and the sun had just passed its zenith in the heavens when a disgruntled Broli walked out of the doctor's office. Apparently the nerve reattachment was taking longer than he had originally estimated and he wouldn't recover until late tonight or early tomorrow. Apparently the healing, which had been necessary to save Ranma at the time, had closed wounds which needed to be reopened if the arm was to be put back together and that was taking time. That they couldn't move right away was troubling. Murder Wraiths were the product of the Grim Reapers death cult so it was almost certain that the monster that had fled would be reporting to a master who would send him back, probably with greater numbers. 'The real question,' he thought, 'is if they were after us or Maverick.'

His ruminations about the threat were interrupted as he overheard a commotion ahead of him. Jogging forward he saw a group of people crowded around a child. He was filthy and barely clad in ragged shorts with numerous cuts and burns on his body but it was the look in his eyes that was the most horrible to Broli. The boy's eyes were empty and hollow, devoid of life of any signs of a soul, a shattered being. Currently several people were holding the child, shaking him and trying to get answers from the incoherent youth. "What's going on here?" the squire demanded the feeling of crisis lending strength to his voice.

"He just wandered into town like that," somebody in the panicked throng said, "We don't know what is happening beyond that."

"He is in shock," Broli replied, his feeling of unease from before growing. However before he could act another person began muscling through the crowd. He was a wolven male clad in Triax Explorer armor, modified for his lupine anatomy, with a bronze star proclaiming him sheriff.

"Boy what happened?" the sheriff demanded taking him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes. Recognizing the man a small spark of life entered the child's eyes and he started to weep uncontrollably. "Somebody get a doctor," the wolven commanded, snapping the throng into action as he tried to comfort the crying child.

Seeing there was little he could do right now Broli went in search of Maverick, it looks like they might have a fight on their hands tonight.

After getting the story from the tortured child the sheriff called out his deputies and the militia along with any armed beings to counter the threat that was going to befall them. Scouting had revealed that the surrounding farms had been butchered to a man and the roads trapped, locking them in. In response this group had gathered to plan and organize a defense against the attack that everyone knew was coming. Sitting among the others Broli watched the gathering with a practiced eye, wishing that Sir Ranma would be able to join in the fight. Not only would his skills be missed but he had no doubt that the enemy would attempt to avenge the other wraith, if only to assuage his pride after running.

Studying the people around them Broli was fairly impressed with their numbers. The people who had been in the hotel with them last night had cleaned up and were in attendance, their rough edge and with heavier arms than the bulk of those in attendance. Apparently they were with Maverick as he stood next to a female warrior who seemed to be their leader. In addition there was a large number of militia wearing an assortment of armor and, to his expert eye, seemed to have less combat experience. Finally there were the six deputies who stood at attention behind a podium where the sheriff was going to address the assembled people. The room was rather cramped for the number of people and had obviously not been used in some time. The fact that these disparate groups did not do anything to reduce the tension, with rumors of what had happened flying nobody wanted to sit around and wait.

Without preamble the sheriff, clad in his armor and with his helmet clipped at his waist, approached the podium and addressed the assembled fighters. Clearing his throat to call attention to the front the wolven began to speak, "Gentlemen I'm sure you've heard the rumors and I am going to set things straight, we are under siege. Sometime last night a force of monsters of undetermined size have killed the families around the surrounding communities and laid traps on the roadways into the town. I have talked with the mayor and have come up with a plan to handle the attack."

Someone in the crowd chose that moment to speak up, "Sheriff if they have been set up this long why haven't we been attacked already?"

The question was met with grumbles of acknowledgement and the sheriff was quick to respond, "We believe that the enemy if, either in part or in whole, limited to night operations so the generators will be left on to night so the lights can remain on. Also tonight we are instructing that all noncombatants to hide in the shelters tonight, allowing us to fight freely. Also we will be blockading the roadways to hinder access and secreting weapons caches so you can switch weapons if needed."

Broli listened carefully to the plan, taking careful notes of dispositions and where traps would be set, fully intent on making sure that the monsters assailing Bourbon would be punished for what they had done.

Watching the sun set across the horizon Marcus watched the sun creep ever downward with anticipation, his familiar perched on his shoulder. Forgoing his normal black robes the witch had chosen his bone plate armor, not that he needed it but best not to advertise his supernatural power. Once Warlord Cid had made up for this mistake then things could really begin. With confident strides he came to the clearing where Freddy had been shackled to the ground, in full view of the daylight. While not fatal to them as it is to vampires the sun weakened and irritated murder wraiths greatly, that Cid had pried the undead's eyes open with silver hooks, forcing him to see the sun, would be only a greater cruelty.

Smirking at the stoically silent monster Marcus said, "Are you ready to get up yet?"

Biting back a snarl at the sarcastic words Freddy merely said, "If you would." As much as he hated his master he also loathed the witch. While still human the powers granted to him by the Horseman of Death made him a powerhouse even the undead juicers could not ignore and it grated on Freddy to know that. However he was not about to let the condescending puppet know just how much he wanted the other man dead… yet.

Deciding it was not wise to waste time the witch ripped the hooks from Freddy's eyes and unchained his limbs. Allowing the murder wraith to rise on his own the witch looked at him and said, "Come it is time for us to kill again."

"Good," Freddy replied, eager to vent his rage on those who had humiliated him. Together the two turned back towards camp to rejoin the army.

Back in the town Broli watched the setting sun with determined anticipation. Last night he had failed his master and allowed him to come to harm, hefting his cannon the squire resolved it would not happen again. To ensure that he had joined the team guarding the hospital, which would serve any wounded who managed to survive. With him six other soldiers carrying a variety of weapons and shotguns loaded with silver ammunition were patrolling the area in case the enemy decided to pick up some easy kills.

Taking a break from tracking the mighty star Broli took a moment to take the measure of the beings he would be fighting with. All of them were men and women defending their home town and they all knew that there would be many people who would not see the sunrise tomorrow. Still they were unwilling to meekly submit or flee their home merely because some Death cultists and their monsters had decided to make trouble and seeing that determination warmed the squire's heart. He too planed to show these monsters the measure of his valor.

Closer to the edge of the town Maverick waited behind cover with other militia members waiting for the enemy to come. They had spent the day making booby traps throughout the city and developing plans for a layered defense against whatever might be thrown at them. 'Hopefully it will be enough to see us through the night,' Maverick thought, knowing in the back of his mind that no amount of preparation would save everyone tonight. Around him were TC and the rest of her gang, ostensibly due to the fact they had less familiarity in the town's layout, along with a few natives. 'Yeah right,' Maverick thought, 'More like they are using the outsiders as fodder.'

"TC what do your eyes say?" he asked via radio. At his suggestion the two suits of Predator power armor that his cousin had had been sent up to provide early warning and an assessment of what they would be facing.

"So far so clear. Wait a minute…," his cousin said over the radio, "We've got movement, your murder wraith leading the charge with another really big one, about a couple dozen brodkil, some black armored guys moving too fast for humans, and a whole mess'a dead-look'n guys with rifles; zombies probably."

"Damn," Maverick cursed as he drew his TW Thundergun, this was just what he didn't want. "Well we knew tonight would be rough. Get one of the Predators down here and give him the detonator, I want him to hold for when the zombies come through, last thing we need is an army swarming us."

"Okay Benny, sounds like a good idea," TC said before signing off.

Sighing at his cousin's antics Maverick strained his ears and eyes trying to get an early warning of the incoming hoard. Suddenly the wraith from before charged into town and appeared before one of the defenders and, with a speed that would make a rattlesnake envious, ripped the man's heart out thru his chest. Those defenders not shocked into a stupor from the suddenness and violence of the attack turned their weapons on the undead juicer and unleashed a torrent of silver bullets at him.

It was like trying to gun down smoke as the wraith danced around the arcs of fire, a contemptuous sneer fixed firmly on his face as he began to taunt the defenders. "One, two Freddy's after you," he sang in a mocking sing-song voice, drawing ever closer to a pair of defenders.

"Three, four better lock the door," the wraith continued, reaching the unfortunate men and ripping their heads off from their shoulders before they could react.

Seeing another defender running the monster prepared to jump on him singing, "Five, six better run qui…"

He never finished as a sudden thunderclap accompanied an all-too familiar sense of pain exploding in his side, causing him to tumble. Coming up in a crouch Freddy snarled at the interruption of his fun when he noticed a familiar, and unwelcome, face. "Sorry I don't have time to play," Freddy said before snapping his rotted fingers and shouting, "GET'EM BOYS!"

Alerted by the hat Maverick turned to see two armored warriors leap over the barricade and dive towards him, claws poised for the kill. Knowing that he would only get one shot he brought his revolver into line and snapped off a shot. The enchanted silver bullet flew from the barrel to strike the monster in the shoulder, punching through his spiked pauldron with a loud clap and turning his dive into an uncontrolled tumble. Activating his armors magic barrier Maverick prepared for impact when a powerful bolt of plasma slammed into the creature, sending it flying. Turning for a moment he saw his cousin with her plasma cannon. Turning back to his own enemy, who was already rising, and put another two rounds into him. Seeing the creature was dead Maverick returned to the wall as more warriors and brodkil made a charge on the line.

"HOLD THE LINE," TC shouted, her voice distorted by her helmet. "HEWY, JOHNSON KEEP AN EYE OUT IN CASE DEAD-HEAD COMES BACK!"

"AYE," the two replied as they moved to comply with their boss' command.

Ducking a burst of rail-gun fire from one of the sub-demons TC popped up and snapped off a bolt from her plasma cannon at the sub-demons. While most of her experience was in fighting vampires the mercenary had some experience fighting brodkil and she hated them. It wasn't just that the bastards were incredibly tough or their propensity to using heavy firearms that made them so nasty it was the fact they were complete psychopaths. Dealing with creatures that seemed to only derive enjoyment from violence rubbed her the wrong way. Snapping off another pair of shots TC ducked as a mini-missile streaked over her head and into a storefront, blowing it apart.

Switching to his TW Starfire pistol for its greater range Maverick added his own contribution to the fire going at the sub-demons while the Predators made strafing runs with their pulse cannons. The fire from the defenders had cost the corrupt and brodkil the momentum but the renewed their charge and the mass of zombies came upon the battle. Leveling their guns with disturbing synchronicity the advancing hoard of over a hundred began sending a hail of poorly aimed laser bolts at the defenders. Making things worse an enormous corpse wielding a chainsaw charged towards their lines, ignoring all fire.

Seeing the situation was untenable Maverick ordered a retreat to the next line as the undead hoard approached, the words, fully expected, tasted like ash in his mouth. Making sure to fire back at the advancing enemy to slow them down Maverick and the others fled from their barricade just as the explosive trap was detonated, catching the enemy in a storm of silver-coated shrapnel. The trap had been expensive but it would be well worth it if the enemy's numerical superiority could be substantially reduced. The brodkil and corrupt who survived the attack screamed in rage and redoubled their efforts, catching up with the bulky murder wraith as he smashed through the barricade with a single mighty swing of his chainsaw. Without missing a beat the undead monster charged forward, reaching a pair of locals and tearing them apart with his blade even as they fled. With wicked whoops and cries the monstrous hoard surged through the breech, eager to slack their insatiable blood-lust.

Canceling the shadow meld spells they had been using to infiltrate while the army drew the enemy's attention Warlord Cid, Marcus and the cult mages emerged from the darkness of a shadowy street corner. Sticking to the back alleys the group of dark mages silently made their way further into the town in search of their objective. While Cid's initial desire had been to lead the charge, crush his enemies, see them driven before them and hear the lamentations of their women he had decided on another plan. Drawing an enchanted skull from his belt Cid asked it, "Where are the sacrifices I seek?"

"The hall at the center of town contains the prey you seek," the skull said in response to the question with its hollow voice.

Smiling under his skull-helm the ogre necromancer turned to his minions and said, "Let's hurry, the sooner we are done the sooner we can finish this."

Moving with determined strides the small force skulked through the darkness towards their target, drawing away from the main fighting. After taking a twisting path as they navigated the unfamiliar streets the group found a large building with no visible guards. Coming to a halt Cid peered at the building, trying to find any hidden guards that might indicate a greater importance to the structure. As he looked into the darkened building his keen eyes noticed movement within the building. Smiling with savage delight he knew in his gut he had found what he was looking for. Gesturing for the shifter in his ranks to come forward Cid commanded him, "Unleash the spirit."

Stepping forward the shifter raised his Domination Staff and unleashed the possessing entity trapped within with a thought. The entity exited the bio-wizard staff and flew towards the building.

Inside the community center Mark nervously sat, silently waiting for an attack that he, and the other guards, hoped would never come. It had been decided to plant a small contingent of the local guard would be placed in the center, which contained the largest of the city shelters. Suddenly Mark heard a panicked scream that degenerated into a terrible death-gurgle coming from behind him. Spinning around he saw that one of the two-man rail gun team in the nest in the back of the room had slit the throat of the other and was readying the gun to fire. "What are you doing?" Mark screamed even as he ducked from a wild stream of fire.

Not having the time to talk down the apparently insane man with the rail-gun Mark pulled out a pair of plasma grenades and threw them at the nest. With a blinding flash of light that temporarily burned away the darkness the grenades detonated, destroying the emplacement and killing the deranged gunner. However before the remaining guards could relax or get a handle on what had just happened the doors to the center flew open and black robed figures charged in, lead by a ferocious giant. One of the other guards prepared recovered faster and leveled his rifle at the charging figures but was struck down by tendrils of pitch-black lightning from the giant's hand.

Scrambling to his feet Mark leveled his particle beam rifle at one of the skull-masked men, who was wielding a sword made of light, and fired a bolt. The powerful energy bolt struck the charging man but was stopped by a magic barrier of some kind. His second shot was interrupted as a vulture with glowing red eyes wrenched the rifle from his hands. In the time it took him to draw his pistol the robed man got into melee range and slashed at him with his lightblade, gouging a deep trench in Mark's body armor. Desperate to get some fighting room Mark pistol-whipped the other man, hoping his apparent lack of a helmet meant he could harm the man, or at least disorient him.

Marcus almost felt a sense of satisfaction as he slid him lightblade into the chest of the worm who thought that he could oppose a witch of Death. Looking around he saw the other mages making short work of the token force, occasionally being beset by the possessing entity they had unleashed as well. Dispelling his blade Marcus walked to the ruined nest in case there was a survivor he could finish off. Finding none he turned to Cid and said, "Clear."

Sliming as he flicked the blood off of his Dead Demon's Hand, his necklace of dragon's teeth allowing him to see the weapon, the ogre began scanning the room. Not finding what he was looking for immediately he began making a careful examination of the room after commanding, "Search the building, it has to be here somewhere."

After several meetings of searching they found a doorway hidden behind a sliding cabinet. Once the way was cleared Marcus cast a spell to undo the locks and two of the necromancers pulled the door open. Taking the lead Cid strode down the hall casting a necro-armor spell, the magic barrier taking the form of a covering of rotting flesh, grave earth and bone fragments. Entering a larger chamber Cid looked around at the frightened, huddled masses before him and smiled with malevolent intent this was exactly what he wanted.

Coming up to the next major choke point Maverick was angry as he saw the sign of a massacre. The murder wraith had struck here and killed the squad stationed there and moved on. Seeing that from here on out it would be street fighting Maverick decided that gaining an aerial advantage would be for the best. "TC," he shouted, "I'm going to get my board."

"See you on the other side," his cousin said in reply as she turned to fire at a brodkil that was getting a little too accurate with his fire. Hearing the approach of the giant with the chainsaw TC added, "When you get back try and deal with big and ugly alright."

"I'm on it," Maverick said as he jogged down a side street, hoping he would see his cousin at the end of this. Taking several turns down other side streets, senses open for an ambush, Maverick made his way towards the hotel where his truck was located. As he approached his hat alerted him of incoming danger. Maverick threw himself into a roll and came up with his Thundergun leveled at the source of the attack. Where he had been standing he saw a humanoid figure armored in black plate adorned with spikes and leather straps with scaly hands sporting wicked claws covered in blood. Issuing forth a howl that no human throat could produce it charged forward, intent on ripping the techno-wizard to shreds.

Maverick was faster. A silver bullet flew from his Thundergun with the distinctive peel of thunder for which the gun was named and struck the monster center mass. The corrupt continued forward, seeming not to register the bullet which had torn a crater in his chest even as it began to regenerate.

'Damn I've got to work fast,' Maverick thought as he saw the creature healing. However before he could get another shot off the monster had closed the distance and attacked, claws racking against Maverick's magical barrier. Scrambling back to get some room Maverick fired another shot, cratering the vile monster's side. TW Thunderguns were most effective against supernatural creatures and in that regard Maverick was grateful for his enemy's choice of servants.

The corrupt responded with a savage snarl and backhanded Maverick off of his feet with his spiked gauntlet. Landing on his back Maverick shook off a daze quickly and fired at the monster once again. The round went wide as the creature lunged at Maverick, claws extended to finish him off. Recovering from his miss Maverick fired again and this time the bullet flew true and struck the creature between the glowing pits which were most likely its eyes, blowing his head apart and showering Maverick with black-green ichor.

Pushing the corpse off and trying to get as much of the blood and chunks off of him as possible before hiding in the shadows and opening his gun to reload his gun. After ejecting the empty shell cases from the revolver Maverick pulled out a speed loader and put fresh rounds in the gun. As he closed the cylinder Maverick focused his magical energy into the gun to energize the rounds. That completed Maverick walked to his truck and brought out his turbo wing board. Strapping his feet in Maverick channeled his energy into the device bringing it to life.

After rising above the town Maverick took a moment to regain his bearings before flying back towards the fight. 'Hang on guys,' he thought, hoping his cousin and her men would hold out until he returned.

Laughing as he danced between arcs of enemy fire Freddy amused himself with the mortals trying to harm him. While their forces had taken a beating with that trap they had set the prey was still no match before their might. Jason had finally caught up to him, fully regenerated from the explosion earlier and was using his TW chainsaw to cleave through a Chipwell Assault Suit, pilot and all. The brodkil, lacking the swift regenerative powers of their undead leaders, were still injured and some of their cybernetics were damaged but many of them were still in the fight, shooting and slashing with wild abandon at any enemies they could reach.

Cutting down the prey before him in an impressive spray of blood Jason turned to find his next kill. He had resented not being able to go on the last hunt and wanted to spill as much blood as possible before tonight's killing ended. Suddenly he felt a sensation on his back that told him he was damaged. It wasn't pain; pain had been nothing more than a faded memory for a long time, but it wasn't something he enjoyed and he would make the one responsible pay.

Resting her cannon on her shoulder TC fired a pair of silver-coated ram-jet rounds from her MP-10 Caseless pistol at the undead titian juicer carving up the defenders. As the rounds blasted large pits in the rotted flesh of the monster TC had to switch to her cannon to return fire at a brodkil who had decided taking pot-shots at her would be fun. As she fired she cursed the enemy for mixing his forces like this. The murder wraiths could only be hurt by silver weapons while the brodkil required conventional weapons to fight them effectively. It forced the defenders to carry more guns and ammo that was non-interchangeable, limiting their effectiveness against both. It was times like this that TC considered asking her cousin to build them a recharger for magic energy clips and switching to Stormspire TW weapons. While they cost ten times as much as conventional weapons but, because they were magic weapons, could damage just about any type of creature.

Watching the sub-demon back off TC returned her attention to the giant murder wraith, which was already regenerating from her previous shot. Fortunently years of experience fighting vampires along the Arzno boarder had given her experience with the speed of undead regeneration. Switching back to her pistol TC fired another shot only for the giant to dodge the bullet with more grace that a being with his size should possess. "Damn," TC cursed as the jet-propelled bullet sailed past its target. The rounds packed an incredible punch, enough to tear an unarmored man in two with a single shot, but could be difficult to obtain. Unfortunately as hard as they were fighting the defenders were slowly being chipped away at. Something needed to change or TC and the others would die.

Soaring towards the battle Maverick saw that things were not going well for the defenders. Seeing that his cousin was being charged by the undead giant with the massive chainsaw Maverick took aim and fired. The shot struck true, causing the monster to stop and look up before, much to Maverick's surprise, throwing his chainsaw at the flying techno-wizard.

Frantically dodging the flying, whirling blade of roaring death by hurriedly pulling up Maverick's second shot went wide and he was forced to keep moving as several brodkil with rail-guns or missile launchers decided to begin shooting at the Predators and himself. Passing around Maverick once again brought him into range of the undead monstrosity and opened fire with his Thundergun. The shot was true but the giant remained silent as he turned to lash out at a brave or foolish soul who had gotten too close. The murder wraith took the screaming man in his hand and squeezed hard. The molecularly bonded ceramic armor creaked ominously under the monstrous supernatural strength of the creature before violently shattering as the monster crushed the warrior like a grape.

Angry TC was about to unload another round into the monster but suddenly the other murder wraith appeared in front of her. Before she could react he had driven his fist into her armored stomach as he smiled evilly and asked, "Miss me?"

Fortunately, unlike the light armor worn by many of the militia, her NG-EX10 Gladius exo-skeleton was made of far sterner stuff and did not yield. Staggering back TC quickly snapped off a shot at Freddy. Catching the murder wraith in the shoulder and said, "Apparently not."

Growling at the flippant comment as much as the damage to his now ruined shoulder Freddy leapt onto a building roof as the armored bitch pulled out a second pistol and began taking shots at him. He would need to take some time to regenerate the shoulder and other wounds before he was willing to engage again. However that didn't mean he couldn't contribute a little. Taking aim with his forearm mounted Forearm Integral Weapon System (FIWS) at his foe he fired a pair of particle beam bolts at her. With some satisfaction Freddy watched her scramble for cover from his fire.

Veering wildly to evade a thrown car Maverick smiled as he began reloading his gun again and refreshed his barrier, silently vowing to learn an invisibility spell and build it in as soon as he could. Already he had suffered a number of strikes from rail-gun fire, never mind the giant throwing whatever it could at him. With a click as the cylinder returned to its place and a brief expenditure of energy Maverick was ready to fly back into combat. Hearing a crash below him Maverick juked to the side, barely avoiding a car that had been hurled at him. Looking down he saw that the giant murder wraith had decided to chase after him. 'Perfect,' Maverick thought, 'if I can draw him off then the rest of the troops will be able to use their numbers to win.'

"Hey chunk-style," Maverick shouted as he snapped off a shot at the monster, "Come and get me."

Jason was more than happy to oblige the insect that had been harassing him tonight. At the very least it would give him a chance to heal and hopefully deal with one of the two major annoyances of the night. Then he could crush the other and get back to the slaughter. Picking up a motorcycle and flinging it at his target Jason continued his chase, intent to swat the bug out of the sky.

The inside of the once clean community center now looked like a charnel house. The fifty or so civilians they had found had been forced from their shelter and sacrificed to restore the magical energy of the strike force, save for seventeen captives. Cid looked down at them with contempt as they knelt, held down by skeletal hands that had sprouted from the ground, and whimpering in terror. Their eyes tracked his movement, afraid of what new horrors he would inflict on them after seeing the senseless slaughter of their fellows.

Signaling for his shifter to come to him Cid worked to keep his anticipation in check. Once this was done he would be able to wade into combat and bring this matter to a close. As the black robed man approached he gestured towards the prisoners and said, "Do it."

The shifter merely smiled and drew his bloody sacrificial knife as he told his lord, "With pleasure."

Although he was having a problem getting opportunities to fire at the monster Maverick knew they were winning, from the chatter he had heard TC had taken over the defense and were finally making in-roads against the attackers. With luck they would be able to spare some men to help him out soon, before things get worse.

Then things got worse.

Without warning one of the larger buildings in town exploded as a giant monster emerged. It was huge; easily twenty feet tall at the head with a large, roundish body with a trio of thick, trunk-like legs around its body save for where it sported a broad fang-filled mouth and a trio of eye stalks that waved menacingly. One of the eyes locked onto a flying Predator that came in to strafe the beast and it fired a beam of light. The armor froze up and spiraled to the ground with a resounding boom.

"Damn," Maverick said, this fight had just gotten much, much harder.

From his position on the roof Freddy smiled as he saw his master's summoned greater demon begin to rampage in the town. Maggots were not the brightest of demons but more than made up with that in sheer physical and supernatural power. Suddenly his radio beeped; answering it Freddy received information that made his night.

"Go to the hospital east of the town center there you will find the item I seek. Find it, take it and kill anyone who gets in your way," Warlord Cid commanded.

"Yes, my master," Freddy replied with a smile. He was getting the mission that would make everything worth it, and with that the glory. Better still since it was a hospital maybe he would get lucky and find a baby or two, he felt in the mood for a snack. Breaking into a sprint he launched from rooftop to rooftop at speeds normally reserved for cars, a malevolent grin splitting his face. He soon came to the target building and jumped to the ground.

Landing in a crouch Freddy checked his surroundings to make sure he was unseen before approaching the building. In the lobby there were a half-dozen people, including the other bastard from last night. 'Time for some payback,' he thought with anticipation.

Broli's sixth sense was the only warning before the door shattered and a blackened blur surged into the room. Without hesitation the squire fired his cannon at the intruding undead. The tri-bolt of magical force missed its target and put a car-sized hole in the opposite wall. Meanwhile another guard brought his own gun up to bare but it was too late.

'Too easy,' Freddy thought, having already gotten inside the man's guard and delivering a punishing series of blows to his chest, denting the armor. The other men began to respond but they were like flies swimming in molasses whereas he was an eagle in the heavens. The D-Bee fired again and Freddy pulled the other man in front, using him as a living shield. Letting the now-corpse fall to the floor with a satisfying thud Freddy leaned away from a vibro-sword slash aimed at his head before breaking the swordsman's arm and giving him two quick double-blasts with his FIWS particle beam guns. A burst of silver bullets from a sub-machinegun struck him in the back and Freddy charged the shooter delivering a powerful haymaker to his unarmored head that shattered it like an over-ripened melon. Ripping out the headless man's spine the wraith flipped over a fourth and jamming it through his eye.

Seeing the murder wraith tearing his way through the others Broli realized that he wasn't holding back this time. Along with the sole remaining guard Broli fired his techno-wizard cannon at the undead juicer. The tri-bolt and silver bullets struck home earning a pained hiss before the murder wraith's form seemed to blur. Before the guard could react the murder wraith appeared in front of him, delivering a mighty, two-handed hammer blow that shattered the guard's Plastic Man armor and cratered his chest. Another shot was dodged as the murder wraith closed in and swatted the cannon away. Broli reached for his vibro-vogue but Freddy was faster, delivering a five-hit combo followed by a roundhouse kick that sent the squire flying through the hole in the wall and into the next building. As he dented the wall and fell to the ground Broli thought, 'I'm sorry Sir Ranma,' before losing consciousness.

Back in the hospital Freddy left the lounge and entered the hallway, searching for a victim. Stalking the halls with unnatural silence Freddy searched each room as he came to them, unwilling to leave anyone behind who could hinder his mission. Seeing a light at the end of the hall he flashed a predatory grin and crept closer. Peering inside he couldn't help but feel his excitement rise. 'Jackpot,' he thought, for within that room was the man who had killed Hannibal. Silent as death he crept up on the man and, unsheathing the vibro-claws in his FIWS, drew back his fist. Silently he whispered, "G'night Gracie," and struck.

Without warning Ranma's head jerked to the side, dodging the strike. Also Freddy felt a hand grasping him under his emaciated ribcage and throwing him into the wall. Flipping in midair and landing in a crouch Freddy's dead eyes widened in surprise. Sitting on the table was the knight, awake and sitting on the table with a sardonic smile on his face. Idly he withdrew a thorn from his utility belt and jammed it into the ragged flesh of his barely fixed arm. Freddy watched in surprise and vines moved to fill the gap in his flesh, healing the wound.

Flexing the newly healed arm as he got off of the table and settled into a stance Sir Ranma said, "Been waiting for you ugly. Let's dance."

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to produce, life got in the way. The next chapter will have the conclusion of the battle for Bourbon so it might be shorter than usual, depending on what the story requires. Also expect a lot more of Ranma in the next chapter.

Chipwell Armaments Inc. (a.k.a.: Cheapwell to its detractors) is a company that sells budget robotics. Their anti-vampire power armor is alright but most of their stuff is dangerously sub-par. No self-respecting mercenary would be caught dead in their stuff. That said there are good reasons for communities to buy their stuff, it is safer to have a militia with several suits of Chipwell power armor than a single champion in superior power armor (who might decide to take over). Also if you need ceremonial suits that are not going to see combat their Warmonger power armor fills that role nicely (otherwise it is a coffin).

Please Read and Review. Don't flame, it does no one any good.


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